I 


i 


THE  HUDSON 
MOTHER  POEMS 

BY 

GEORGE  S.  HELLMAN 


NEW  YORK  # LONDON 

G.P  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

Cbc  TRnickerb  ockcr  {press 
1909 


COFYKIGHT,  IQOQ 
BY 

GEORGE   S.   HELLMAN 


Ube  ifcnlcberbocfeet  press,  tiew  fiorb 


TO 
GEOFFREY  AND  RHODA 

AND 
THEIR  MOTHER 


904541 


NOTE 

Of  these  poems  some  have  been  printed  in  Harper's  Monthly 
Magazine,  The  Cosmopolitan,  The  Argonaut,  East  and  West, 
The  Ethical  Record,  The  Columbia  Literary  Monthly,  The  Morn- 
ingside,  and  in  the  following  three  anthologies:  The  American 
Anthology,  edited  by  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  The  World's 
Best  Poetry,  edited  by  Bliss  Carman,  and  The  Chief  American 
Poets,  edited  by  Curtis  Hidden  Page. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  HUDSON        ........  i 

SONG 2 

"DEAREST,  WHEN  THE  WINDS  OP  SPRING  "                 .          .  3 

MULTUM  IN  PARVO         .......  4 

SYMPATHY   .........  5 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  LITTLE  CHILD          ....  6 

SAN  FRANCISCO    ........  7 

COLERIDGE  .........  8 

LINES           .........  9 

THE  CONFESSIONAL        .......  10 

A  CHALLENGE       .....;..  22 

IN  A  STREET  CAR           .          .          .          .                    .  22 

ON  FINDING  AN  OLD  LOCKET  .          .  .         .24 

LOQUITUR  MORS             .......  26 

ARTHUR  TRENT    .          .  *  .         .         .         .         .32 

"LULLABY      .          .          .          .         .         .          .         .      •    .  34 

[     vii     ] 


To  A  LITTLE  CHILD        .          .          .          .          .          .          -35 

WORDSWORTH       ........  36 

THE  JEST     .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .37 

IMMANUEL  KANT            .......  50 

A  WOMAN    .........  53 

THE  CHILDREN  IN  THE  FACTORIES  .....  54 

THE  SPHINX          ........  56 

THE  LYRIC  OF  LIFE  AND  LOVE        .....  58 

MOUNTAIN  VERSES         .......  64 

A  DIFFERENCE      ........  65 

LAUNCELOT           ........  66 

To  EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN    .....  68 

EVENING  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  LAKE           ....  70 

THE  DEATH  OF  LORENZO        ......  73 

To  ONE  ABSENT  ........  82 

SWINBURNE           ........  83 

THE  LESSON          ........  84 

THE  GAME  .........  86 

IN  THE  WOODS      ........  88 

NAPOLEON  IN  HELL       .          .          .          .          .          .          .  101 

THE  MOOD  OF  BLISS      .......  102 

LYRIC  .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .          -103 

[     viii    ] 


COMPENSATION      .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .     i0^ 

THE  TROOPS  RETURNING        ......     104 

NIGHT  IN  ALASKA  .          .          .          .          .          .          .      i0c 

AN  INSCRIPTION  ........     105 

LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY          .          .      106 
CARL  SCHURZ        ........     108 

THE  BISHOP'S  DREAM   .......     109 

PASSAGES  FROM  "ESTHER": 

THE  GOLDEN  VASE  .          .         .         .117 

ESTHER  AND  THE  KING  .         .         .          .122 

THE  DOWNFALL  OF  HAMAN        .  128 


THE  HUDSON 

WHERE  in  its  old  historic  splendor  stands 
The  home  of  England's  far-famed  Parliament, 
And  waters  of  the  Thames  in  calm  content 
At  England's  fame  flow  slowly  o'er  their  sands; 
And  where  the  Rhine  past  vine-entwined  lands 
Courses  in  castled  beauty,  there  I  went ; 
And  far  to  southern  rivers  flower-besprent, 
And  to  the  icy  streams  of  northern  strands. 

Then  mine  own  native  shores  I  trod  once  more, 

And,  gazing  on  thy  waters'  majesty, 

The  memory,  O  Hudson,  came  to  me 

Of  one  who  went  to  seek  the  wide  world  o'er 

For  love;  but  found  it  not.    Then  home  turned  he 

And  saw  his  mother  waiting  at  the  door. 


SONG 

Do  the  mountains  query 
Whence  our  beauteous  trees  ? 
Do  the  waves  make  question 
The  glory  of  the  seas  ? 
Do  the  skies  insist  on 
The  stars'  bright  mystery? 
Shall  I  seek  to  fathom 
The  love  I  bear  to  thee? 


DEAREST,  WHEN  THE  WINDS  OF  SPRING" 

DEAREST,  when  the  winds  of  Spring 
Kiss  the  buds  to  blossoming, 
Well  it  is  our  hearts  are  gay, 
Dancing  like  the  lilac-spray. 

Every  year  it  blooms  anew — 
But  one  Spring  for  me  and  you. 
Let  us  make  the  most  of  May : 
Past,  she  comes  no  more  our  way. 


[     3     1 


MULTUM  IN  PARVO 

THE  sea-shell's  faint-heard  murmuring 
Unto  the  poet's  ear  can  bring 
The  rapture  of  the  radiant  sea 
And  all  its  glistering  melody. 

Borne  by  the  north-wind's  bitter  breath 
Unto  its  fragrant  bed  of  death 
This  oak-leaf  fluttering  wan  and  sear 
Is  sentient  with  the  dying  year. 

Within  one  dauntless  far-flung  word 
The  voice  of  myriads  may  be  heard; 
A  woodland  violet  holds  fast 
The  spirit  of  all  springtimes  past. 

The  thoughts  that  we  eternal  call — 
A  single  life  contains  them  all ; 
And  joy  and  sorrow,  hope  and  fear 
Lie  close  impearled  within  a  tear. 


[     4     ] 


SYMPATHY 

YE  all  may  join  her  laughter- 
Partake  her  hours  of  bliss. 
If  sorrow  follow  after 
Let  me  alone  share  this. 

Yes,  all  of  you  may  languish 
When,  joyous,  she  is  fair. 
Give  me  her  tears  of  anguish 
And  silence  of  despair. 


[     5     ] 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  LITTLE  CHILD 

PASSIONLESS  ravisher  of  land  and  main, 
Grim  wielder  of  the  Damocletian  sword, 
Thou  stern  negation  stronger  than  the  horde 
Of  towering  warriors  led  by  Tamerlane, 
Thou  overreacher  of  the  craftiest  brain 
And  final  arbiter  at  every  board, 
O  sole  unconquerable  and  puissant  lord, 
Unmoved  by  pleasure  and  untouched  by   pain,- 

Could'st  thou  not  pass  such  easy  conquest  by ; 
Ay,  raped  all  roses  from  the  breast  of  earth, 
And  orisons  of  larks  hushed  in  mid-sky, 
And  breathed  oblivion  o'er  a  city's  mirth 
To  prove  thy  prowess  ?     But  this  little  child 
Who  trusting  looked  upon  thy  face  and  smiled ! 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
(April  18,  igo6) 

O  FATEFUL  dawn,  destruction  in  thy  train, 

0  fearful  day  when  nature  drew  the  key 

That  set  the  elemental  furies  free, 

O  night  of  death,  come  ye  not  thus  again! 

A  little  while  ago  and  she  did  reign 

The  hill-throned  Empress  of  the  Western  Sea — 

Her  sceptre  now  is  fallen ;  misery 

Her  mantle,  and  her  cruel  crown  is  pain. 

Ye  strange  Titanic  forces  past  control, 
Shaft  we  bow  down  in  fear,  a  weakling  race? 
Well  can  the  earthquake  from  its  buttressed  place 
A  fortress  hurl,  but  not  the  human  soul ; 
And  unto  them  who  staunchly  suffer,  fate 
Shall  not  avail  to  bar  life's  Golden  Gate. 


t     7     1 


COLERIDGE 

THINE  is  the  mystic  melody, 

The  far-off  murmur  of  some  dreamland  sea 

Lifting  throughout  the  night, 

Up  to  the  moon's  mild  light, 

Waves  silver-lustrous,  silvery -white, 

That  beat  in  rhythm  on  the  shadowy  shore, 

And  burst  in  music,  and  are  seen  no  more. 


LINES 

GONE  are  the  snows  of  yester-year, 
Withered  the  rose  that  blossomed  here, 
And  the  heart  is  cold  that  once  beat  high. 
Yet  earth  is  more  fair  for  last  year's  snows, 
And  sweeter  the  air  where  once  bloomed  the  rose, 
And  dead  hopes  live  in  memory. 


[     9 


THE  CONFESSIONAL 

(THE  WOMAN  SPEAKS) 

FATHER  CONFESSOR,  with  weight  of  sin  I  come. 
Bend  nearer  still  thine  ear  compassionate. 
Shame  wellnigh  seals  my  lips  to  leave  them  dumb, 
Yet  must  I  speak.     Christ's  tender  love  is  great, 
And  He  will  save — if  it  be  not  too  late. 

Thou  art  aware  what  woman  whispers  here, 
Her  voice  familiar  through  confessions  heard ; 
Oft  in  her  sorrow  thou  hast  known  to  cheer ; 
And  grateful  is  she  for  each  flaming  word 
That  her  discouraged  heart  with  courage  stirred. 

When  last  in  deep  perplexity  she  knelt, 
"  Be  true  unto  thyself  nor  be  afraid" — 
Thus  didst  thou  bless  with  counsel,  and  I  felt 
As  one  who  pierces  to  a  sunlit  glade, 
Beyond  the  tangled  forest's  doubtful  shade. 
[     10     ] 


My  life  hath  been  a  sea  without  a  shore, 
And  harborless  my  soul  a  drifting  bark. 
The  winds  of  sorrow  ever  smote  it  more, 
And  I  grew  weak  with  striving,  nor  could  mark 
A  single  star  to  guide  me  through  the  dark. 


He  that  should  have  been  pilot  of  my  soul 
And  found  the  haven  of  our  joint  delight, 
Was  all  intent  upon  another  goal : 
My  lordly  husband,  reckless  of  my  plight, 
Made  night  a  desert  for  me,  and  day  night. 


Enamored  of  the  soft  caress  of  gold, 
Impassioned  by  seductive  lure  of  power, 
How  could  o'er  him  my  fading  beauty  hold 
Its  sovereignty  of  the  bridal  hour 
Or  win  him  back  to  love's  deserted  bower? 


Unceasingly  we  drifted  far  apart, 

Our  ways  divided  by  ambition's  dream 

Wherein  was  planned  no  place  for  my  poor  heart, 

Though  pearl-embroidered  costumes  he  would  scheme 

To  deck  his  puppet  wife.     Ah,   it  doth  seem 


A  hideous  paradox,  satire,  what  you  will, 
That  men  should  barter  golden  love  for  gloss, 
And  plot  with  cunning  mind  and  strenuous  will 
To  lose  life's  treasure  in  exchange  for  dross, 
And  all  the  while  exultant  in  their  loss 


Had  I  but  borne  him  children,  then  perchance 
Life  had  not  proved  as  fruitless  as  my  womb. 
They  had  increased  his  pride  of  circumstance 
And,  some  day,  carved  his  titles  on  his  tomb: 
But  barren  women  must  abide  in  gloom, 


Unless,  ah  God,  unless  love's  quenchless  rays 
Pour  with  redoubled  light  from  lips  and  eyes ; 
In  speech  of  comfort  through  desponding  days, 
And  sympathy  of  silence  when  arise 
Unuttered  grief's  unutterable  cries. 


I  sorrowed  without  solace,  and  grew  wild, 
Till,  roaming  in  imagination's  hell 
Wherein  each  mother  strove  to  find  her  child, 
(In  vain,  and  I  among  them,)  faint  I  fell, 
Encircled  by  despair's  relentless  spell ; 

[       12       ] 


(All  in  a  dream  of  anguish,)  to  awake 
From  a  deep  swoon  of  bliss-commingled  pain, 
And  hear  a  blessed  voice  that  said,  "  Forsake 
The  realms  of  bitter  thoughts,  nor  tread  again 
The  stones  envenomed  of  a  loveless  lane. " 


Was  it  the  whisper  of  a  woodland  bird 

Warbling  above  in  lyric-throated  bliss, 

Or  symphony  of  seraphim,  dim  heard 

Through  struggling  sleep?     All  that  I  know  is  this: 

I  woke  from  slumber,  on  my  lips  a  kiss, 


And  o'er  me  gently  bending  was  a  form, 
Whereat  I  leaped  to  life  in  sweet  surprise ; 
As  a  poor  mariner,  wrestling  with  the  storm, 
Sees  suddenly  the  coast  where  safety  lies, 
So  fell  my  gaze  upon  thy  love-lit  eyes ! 


Nay,  dearest  of  confessors,  do  not  start ! 
Forbearing  hear  me  till  my  story  end. 
I  come  not  now  to  tempt  thee  with  my  heart 
I  wish  no  lover,  but  I  need  a  friend, 
Whom  in  His  mercy  may  Lord  Jesus  send! 


So  to  resume : — Long  weeks  my  lonely  mind 
Had  fed  itself  with  visions  of  thy  grace ; 
Mine  unkind  husband  made  thee  still  more  kind. 
Be  it  confessed,  of  late  I  sought  this  place 
To  still  my  yearning  for  thy  loved  face. 


When  first  the  truth  confronted,  I  denied, 
And  named  it  Satan,  and  with  passion  strove 
To  drown  the  voice  of  love  whene'er  it  cried, 
Until  at  last  I  knew  that  far  above 
My  poor  opposing  power  rose  my  love. 


The  ramparts  of  my  will  in  ruin  lay 

By  the  insidious  victor  overthrown. 

Ah,  glorious  anguish  of  that  happy  day! 

It  seemed  the  sun  with  added  radiance  shone 

"When  love  triumphant  came  into  his  own. 


Straightway  in  passionate  words  I  bared  my  soul, 
To  honor  heedless  and  to  danger  blind  ; 
Then  to  thy  sacristy  at  twilight  stole 
Softly  as  moonbeams,  swiftly  as  the  wind, 
And  left  my  words  where  none  but  thou  should' st  find. 
[     14     ] 


Undoubting  that  my  ardor  would  inflame 
Even  thy  priestly  heart,  and  by  its  power 
Evoke  like  passion,  fool,  I  dared  to  name, 
The  secret  pathway,  and  the  silent  hour 
When  I  should  welcome  thee  within  my  bower. 


So  when  last  night  the  palpitating  chimes 
Announced  the  moment  of  expected  bliss 
(It  seemed  eternity  till  eleven  times 
The  bells  rang  forth,)  all  life  resolved  to  this: 
Shall  the  world  cease  before  I  feel  his  kiss  ? 


The  echoes  died  away  and,  like  a  pall 

Over  a  coffin,  sombre  silence  fell. 

Long  stayed  I  crouching  by  the  garden  wall 

But  still  thou  cam'st  not.     Ah,  what  words  can  tell 

The  burning  passion  of  a  soul  in  hell  ? 


At  last,  with  weary  footsteps,  sad  and  slow, 
Like  pale-eyed  sisters  from  their  cloister  came 
The  hours  of  dawn;  I  watched  them  come  and  go, 
Until  upon  my  misery  and  my  shame 
The  rising  sun  relentless  cast  his  flame. 


Then  went  I  to  my  chamber,  hating  thee, 
Myself,  mine  husband,  and  all  things  that  are. 
I  loathed  earth's  green,  the  blueness  of  the  sea; 
Insane  I  raged  at  sun  and  moon  and  star, 
Wildly  with  all  creation  waging  war ; 


Till  from  His  crucifix  upon  my  wall 
With  eyes  of  pity  Lord  Christ  gazed  on  me — 
With  loving  eyes  that  comprehended  all — 
Pity  more  boundless  than  the  boundless  sea, 
And  love  more  deep  than  my  deep  misery. 


O  holy  mystery  of  the  perfect  God 
Who  for  the  sin  of  men  was  crucified 
Suffering  the  Roman  soldier's  thorned  rod, 
The  spike  of  hatred  in  His  quivering  side, 
Until,  a  deathless  deity,  He  died! 


Heart-broken  still,  yet  with  new  strength  of  mind 
I  rose  transformed  by  His  compassionate  gaze, 
Resolved  to  seek  submissive  and  to  find 
Some  vestige  of  the  faith  of  maiden  days 
Wherewith  to  guide  my  steps  in  duty's  ways. 
[     16     ] 


And  as  I  knelt  in  prayer  and  sought  for  aid 
Three  thoughts  like  messengers  from  heaven  sped, 
Peace  harbingers  to  me,  and  undismayed 
To  follow  God's  strong  hand  where'er  it  led, 
I  rose  from  kneeling  by  mine  unslept  bed. 


To  Him  whose  deeds  all  other  works  transcend 
I  thought  how  gratitude  I  best  might  show; 
I  thought  how  lovingless  it  were  to  blend 
The  shameful  mire  of  my  passions  low 
With  thy  priest's  sanctity's  undriven  snow. 


I  thought  how  he  my  husband  proudly  gave 
His  honor  to  my  guard,  without  commands,- 
An  ancient  trust  of  heritage  that  brave 
Dead  men  and  women  died  for  in  far  lands, 
Bequeathing  it  unstained  into  my  hands. 


And  now  I  come  to  claim  the  missive  sent, 
Mute  witness  of  my  momentary  shame 
(If  yet  thou  hast  not  burnt  it) ;  to  repent 
The  jeopardy  wherein  I  placed  thy  fame 
And  mine  own  lineage's  unspotted  name; 
[     17     1 


And  most  of  all  to  thank  thee  who  didst  save 
Me  from  myself  by  purity's  avail; 
Who  wouldst  not  grant  the  sin  that  I  did  crave, 
Servant  of  God,  to  leave  me  rent  and  frail, 
A  miserable  wreck  by  passion's  gale. 

So  ends  confession.     I  had  asked  more  soon 
My  letter  of  thee,  but  I  wished  to  tell 
My  piteous  tale  the  whole,  ere  yet  this  boon, 
Granted  by  thee,  should  token  all  is  well 
And  I  am  saved  by  Lord  Christ's  miracle. 

Thou  draw'st  it  from  thy  sleeve.     I  mark  my  crest. 
Thanks  beyond  words!     I  hear  the  angels  sing! 
Now  I  shall  clasp  forgiveness  to  my  breast ! 
How  thine  hand  trembles! — God,  my  husband's  ring! 

********* 
Well,  serpent,  I  am  ready  for  thy  sting! 

(THE  MAN  SPEAKS) 

Thine  husband's  ring  upon  thine  husband's  hand, 
Thine  husband's  hand  that  slew  the  traitor  priest, 
Whose  soul  flames  forth  in  Hell,  a  noisome  brand 
Flourished  by  Satan  laughing!     So  that  beast 
Stalks  forth  no  more  unto  his  carnal  feast ! 
[     18     ] 


How  I  thy  letter  captured,  let  that  be. 
I  tripped  his  heels  with  lustful  fire  shod 
Swift  to  the  meeting,  by  the  lilac  tree, 
Our  gateway's  glory;  and  my  sword,  a  rod, 
Chastened  the  traitor's  insolence  to  God. 

His  mummer's  garb  I  stripped,  myself  to  wear 
The  vestments  of  hypocrisy;  to  weigh 
The  sum  of  the  affront  I  lived  to  bear ; 
Learn,  as  confessor,  whether  I  should  stay 
The  stroke  of  honor  mine  own  wife  to  slay. 

(THE  WOMAN  SPEAKS) 

Lay  bare  the  blade,  and  sheathe  it  in  my  breast! 

No  syllable  of  love  do  I  deny. 

Who  weakly  played  his  part  now  lies  at  rest ; 

But  not  so  weakly  playing,  soon  shall  I. 

I  ask  no  pardon  of  thee.     Let  me  die. 

(THE  MAN  SPEAKS) 

But  I  of  thee  ask  pardon.     Hadst  thou  heard, 
My  silent  voice  in  this  confessional  hour! 
Each  breath  I  drew  a  deep  repentant  word, 
Each  thought  a  seed  which  thou  mightst  cause  to  flower 
In  deed  of  virtue  by  thy  wifehood's  power. 

[     19     ] 


By  mine  own  tyranny  a  shackled  slave 

Unto  my  meaner  nature  I  have  grown. 

Whilst  thou,  escaping  from  the  threatening  wave 

Fed  by  my  streams  of  selfishness,  alone 

Can  stamp  the  seeds  of  sin  that  I  have  sown. 


He  who  forgot  himself,  forget  thou  him. 

Thou  hast  escaped  the  charring  of  love's  flame, 

For,  like  the  voice  of  holy  seraphim 

When  God's  own  Son  into  His  kingdom  came, 

I  heard  thee  speak  the  honor  of  our  name. 


Be  thou  confessor;  me,  the  penitent, 
Absolve  by  pity,  if  not  yet  by  love. 
Impose  whate'er  thou  wilt,  I  am  content. 
There  is  no  obstacle  but  I  will  move 
My  newborn  soul's  sincerity  to  prove. 


Promise  me  naught.     But,  infinite  desire, 
Rich  guerdon  of  brave  deeds,  thy  love  again 
May  flame  with  light  of  its  once  wonted  fire, 
Sunrise  and  morning  to  me !     So  the  pain 
That,  wildly  foaming,  floods  my  heart,  shall  wane. 
[     20     ] 


Thou  giv'st  thine  hand!     Behold,  with  reverence, 
I  take  it  before  God ;  my  vision  clear 
Of  all  its  former  mists.     Come,  let  us  hence. 
Hark  to  the  herald  voice  of  chanticleer, 
Proclaiming  earth's  new  day,  our  life's  new  year! 


A  CHALLENGE 

THINK  you  to  shatter  these  high  rocks,  O  Sea, 

That  thus  you  strike  in  wrath? 

The  firm  crag  rising  o'er  you  fearlessly 

A  truer  splendor  hath. 

Think  you  to  shatter  man's  high  hopes,  O  Fate, 
That  thus  you  deal  forth  pain? 
Know  that  alone  the  dauntless  are  the  great. 
Strike,  if  you  will,  again! 

IN  A  STREET  CAR 

PUT  down  your  paper  for  a  space 
And  let  the  evening's  news  go  by ; 
Here  in  this  swift-wheeled  meeting  place 
The  living  pages  open  lie. 
Your  neighbor  who  doth  closely  scan 
With  hawk-like  eye  the  day's  finance 
Betrays  the  avaricious  man, 
The  insatiate  votary  of  chance. 

[       22       ] 


Beside  him,  conscious  of  her  dress, 
Its  laces  and  its  furbelows, 
A  girl  with  alien  tenderness 
Holds  to  her  face  a  purer  rose. 
But  you,  with  reverential  gaze, 
May  mark  the  mystery  -of  race 
In  yonder  woman's  careful  ways 
And  pale,  incipient  mother's  face; 
Or  pierce  with  sharp  indignant  look 
Beneath  the  lofty  vulgar  stare 
This  awkward,  ill-kempt  workman  took 
In  brushing  'gainst  that  millionaire. 
Two  children,  the  day's  lessons  done, 
Chatter  and  laugh  in  boisterous  wise ; 
Youth's  unpremeditated  fun 
Is  leaping  in  their  sparkling  eyes. 
What  know  they  of  our  elder  care, 
Of  seared  heart,  and  furrowed  brow? 
Time  is  not  yet  when  they  must  share 
Knowledge  of  grief  as  we  do  now. 


[     23     1 


ON  FINDING  AN  OLD  LOCKET 

ONCE  searching  at  my  leisure, 
(The  thing  I  sought  was  pleasure) 
Amid  an  endless  measure 
Of  trinkets  worn  and  old, 

I  found  a  locket  lying 
Just  where  the  sun's  rays,  dying, 
Made  possible  my  spying 
The  battered  piece  of  gold. 

A  fair  young  face,  a  flower 
Perchance  from  some  dim  bower 
Where,  in  a  long  gone  hour, 
Love,  youth,  and  life  had  reigned ; 

These,  and  some  words  intended 
For  one  whose  dust  long  blended 
With  other  dust,  life  ended, 
These  only  it  contained. 
[     24     ] 


Ah,  sweet  young  maid,  forever 
Gone,  where  all  high  endeavor 
Of  brave  and  strong  and  clever 
Meets  with  its  end  at  last, 

With  love  thine  eyes  are  beaming 
So  that  their  love-light  gleaming 
Makes  death  itself  seem  seeming ; 
Thy  life  cannot  be  past ! 

And  yet,  the  words'  dim  tracing 
Show  how  the  years,  swift  chasing, 
Have  sped,  the  all-erasing, 
And  prove  thy  life  is  o'er ; 

But  what  thine  eyes  betoken 
Will  be  a  charm  unbroken, 
Till  the  last  word  be  spoken, 
And  mankind  is  no  more. 


LOQUITUR  MORS 
DEATH 

BEHOLD  me,  face  to  face,  you  who  have  uttered 

Unchallenged  vaunts  of  unconcerned  soul, 

Whose  dauntless  heart  with  fear  hath  never  fluttered 

Whatever  shadows  o'er  life's  pathway  stole. 

Tell  me,  my  friend,  is  now  your  courage  steady? 

THE  MAN 

As  this  strong  rock,  whereby  you  lean  your  spear. 
Day  I  have  loved,  but  for  the  night  am  ready ; 
Open  night's  gate;  I  follow  without  fear. 

DEATH 

For  you  the  sun  hath  for  the  last  time  risen, 
Nor  shall  your  sightless  eyes  behold  it  set. 
No  windows  look  from  my  eternal  prison ; 
Starlight  and  moonlight  have  not  reached  it  yet. 
The  golden  foliage  of  the  woodland  places, 
The  glorious  leapings  of  the  unleashed  sea, 
Your  loved  mountains'  kindly,  rugged  faces 
For  you  have  been,  but  never  are  to  be. 
[     26     ] 


The  gentle  budding  of  sweet  verdant  valleys 
Thrilled  by  the  herald  note  of  Spring's  first  bird, 
Where   you   have   quaffed   new   strength   from 

Nature's  chalice — 
Irrevocably  lost. 

THE  MAN 

Yes,  I  am  stirred, 

Stirred  to  far  depths,  O  Death,  I  will  confess  it, 
Beauty  was  ever  boundless  balm  to  me. 
Grief  now  is  mine,  yet  how  shall  fear  redress  it, 
Or  from  your  vaults  prove  open  sesame  ? 
I  bid  my  last  farewell  unto  creation 
Who  well  have  fared  amidst  its  sounds  and  sights, 
Grateful  for  lordly  moments  of  elation, 
And  draughts  deep  drunk  of  all  its  sweet  delights. 

DEATH 

How  of  your  mind  that  overleaped  all  spaces, 
Unchecked  by  bar  of  time  and  orb  of  star, 
Consorting  with  the  gods  in  their  high  places, 
Embracing  visions  of  a  world  afar? 
For  winding  worms  and  little  loathsome  lizards 
Your  skull  shall  prove  a  comfortable  nest ; 
Your  aspirations,  like  confounded  wizards, 
Shall  vanish  into  naught  at  my  behest. 
[     27     ]   " 


Through  endless  aeons  no  Promethean  fire 
Shall  light  anew  your  ever-blinded  eyes ; 
All  dreams  of  wisdom  and  all  joy's  desire 
Dissolved  to  dust.     How  now? 

THE  MAN 

He  dies  who  dies. 
DEATH 
And  yet  no  fear? 

THE  MAN 

At  what  shall  I  be  frightened? 
In  all  that  you  have  said  I  am  well  versed, 
Thus  neither  overcast  nor  yet  enlightened 
By  these  stern  truths  your  grim  voice  has  rehearsed. 
Try  then  no  more.     Contented  with  your  power 
Make  ending  to  this  parley      Take  your  dead. 
Eternal  time  shall  lack  the  final  hour 
To  bring  to  you  the  tribute  of  my  dread. 

DEATH 

One  moment  more.     I  grant  you  wisdom,  beauty, 
And  all  the  pleasures  clustering  in  their  train, 
Ambitious  hopes,  and  high  commands  of  duty — 
Their  memory  I  have  invoked  in  vain. 
[     28     ] 


Still  stand  you  dauntless,  still  his  quest  is  bootless 
Who,  ere  he  breaks  you,  wills  that  you  should  bend; 
A  half- won  triumph  were  a  triumph  fruitless. 

THE  MAN 
I  wait  your  blow. 

DEATH 

It  comes.     We  near  the  end. 
Bethink  you  of  the  fairest  and  the  dearest 
Whose  love  gave  perfume  to  your  flower  of  life ; 
Who,  miles  asunder,  still  your  heart  lay  nearest, 
And  made  divine  the  common  name  of  wife. 
No  more  her  smiles,  her  kiss,  her  dear  caresses; 
No  more  the  answering  hand  that  in  yours  stole ; 
Sweet  parted  lips  on  lips,  sun-kissed  tresses, 
And  pure  communion  of  soul  with  soul. 

THE  MAN 
O  cruel  Death! 

DEATH 

Say  now,  am  I  the  master? 
Confess  to  fear  that  you  must  go  alone. 
She  who  has  shared  each  joy  and  each  disaster 
Finds  blocked  the  journey  by  your  burial  stone. 
[     29    ] 


THE  MAN 

O  cruel  Death,  your  words  a  path  of  anguish 
Cleave  through  my  loving  longing  heart  anew. 
Let  me  no  further  in  my  misery  languish. 
T  is  love  o'erwhelms  me.     Not  the  fear  of  you. 


DEATH 

Your  valor  likes  me.     Many  a  laurelled  hero, 
Victors  of  cities,  winners  of  world  fame, 
The  Macedonian  Philip,  Roman  Nero, 
Showed  not  more  courage  when  they  heard  my  name. 
But  though  you  do  not  quail  at  the  decision 
Which  doth  decree  the  riving  from  your  love, 
Conjure,  my  friend,  this  not  all-pleasing  vision: 
When  you  lie  dead  below,  and  she  above 
Treads  all  unguarded  through  life's  darkening  places 
Until  she  nears  me  at  the  road's  drear  end, 
Bereft  of  strength  from  loved  familiar  faces ; 
I  leer  upon  her ;  close  my  features  bend ; 
She  calls  upon  you,  but  your  voice  is  silent — 
She  gropes  for  your  warm  hand,  but  it  is  dust.  .  .  . 
(The  man  leaps  forward  and  seizes  the  spear  of  Death) 
(     3°     ] 


DEATH 

Presumptuous  man ,  would  you  with  Death  be  violent  ? 
None  knows  but  I  the  secret  of  that  thrust. 
(The  man  falls  back  dead) 

DEATH 
(Bending  over  him} 

The  fatal  touch  of  my  all-fateful  spear! 
And  yet  I  know  not  if  I  taught  him  fear. 


ARTHUR  TRENT 

A  CURIOUS  man  was  Arthur  Trent ; 
His  neighbors  called  him  taciturn; 
By  all  the  villagers'  consent 
Unheeded  quite  he  came  and  went ; 
Their  ways  a  livelihood  to  earn 
With  smiling  calm  he  seemed  to  spurn. 
'T  was  natural  that  they  should  resent 
The  silent  insolence  of  Trent. 

One  morn  they  found  him  in  his  bed, 

A  lovely  smile  upon  his  face. 

"  Well,  the  poor  vagabond  is  dead, 

'T  is  not  much  loss.     God  grant  him  grace. " 

Then,  for  the  day  was  somewhat  sped, 

Each  hurried  to  his  working  place. 

But  when  the  village  children  heard 
That  shiftless  Arthur  Trent  had  died 
All  little  hearts  were  strangely  stirred, 
And  parents  wondered  why  they  cried. 
[     32     ] 


And  as  each  child,  so  every  bird 
That  fluttered  near  the  village  square 
Seemed  waiting  for  the  absent  word 
To  lure  them  through  the  lazy  air. 

And  one  that  lived  a  life  apart — 
Anathema  upon  her  name — 
Who  felt  his  sympathetic  heart 
O'erleap  the  barriers  of  her  shame, 
The  bitter  blast  of  wintry  snows 
Still  ventures,  wreath  in  hand,  to  brave; 
And  every  summer  day  a  rose 
She  gently  places  on  his  grave. 


[     33     ] 


LULLABY 

CLOUDS  are  ships  that  sail  on  high 
Across  the  blue  sea  of  the  sky ; 

Sleep,  dear  baby,  sleep. 
Every  cloud  that  rides  the  gale 
Hides  an  angel  'neath  its  sail, 
And  the  little  angels  keep 
Guard  above  you  as  you  sleep, 

Sleep,  dear  baby,  sleep. 

When  the  veils  of  night  arise 
And  dim  the  little  angels'  eyes, 

Sleep,  dear  baby,  sleep; 
Still  your  mother  is  at  hand 
While  you  roam  in  slumberland. 
Deeper  than  the  sea  is  deep, 
Her  love  guards  you  as  you  sleep, 

Sleep,  dear  baby,  sleep 


[     34     ] 


TO  A  LITTLE  CHILD 

THOUGH  they  grant  me  fame  whose  measure 
Shall  stretch  from  deathless  birth, 

Though  they  give  me  gold  and  treasure 
Voiding  the  mines  of  earth, 

They  can  not  give  me  such  pleasure 
As  you  with  your  loving  mirth. 

No,  they  have  not  the  power 

To  yield  deep  joy  like  this, 
That  bids  faith  once  more  tower 

O'er  doubt's  forlorn  abyss, 
And  makes  the  whole  world  flower 

In  a  child's  spontaneous  kiss. 


[     35     ] 


WORDSWORTH 

LONG,  Wordsworth,  have  I  missed  thy  beauty,  long 

Have  looked  on  all  thy  verse  as  barren  prose 

Where  Morals  and  Philosophy  arose 

To  prate  of  truth  and  wisdom,  right  and  wrong. 

Melodious  music,  lyric  burst  of  song — 

The  gladsome  offspring  of  the  poet's  throes — 

I  found  them  not,  but  went  as  one  who  goes 

Blinded  by  light  unseen  because  too  strong. 

The  light  which  erstwhile  dazzled  now  grows  clear : 

Philosopher  and  poet  are  akin: 

Both  look  without  on  nature  and  within 

On  man;  nor  is  the  gaze  in  aught  austere. 

He  whosoe'er  will  seek  at  last  shall  find 

The  throbbing  heart  beneath  the  sentient  mind. 


THE  JEST 

A  room  in  the  palace.  In  one  corner  a  DUKE,  several 
lords  and  ladies  are  talking  gaily.  On  a  sofa  the  KING  is 
reclining,  lazily  stroking  a  spaniel.  Standing  near  by  is  the 
JESTER,  deep  in  thought.  Every  now  and  then  he  looks  up, 
with  a  strange  expression  in  his  eyes,  at  the  DUKE  in  the 
further  corner. 

THE  KING   (yawning) :  May  good  Saint  Louis 

Curse  this  storm  which  so  has  spoilt  our  hunt, 
For  I  am  weary  grown  of  doing  naught ! 
[Perceives  the  ] ESTER. 

Ho,  ho !     What  's  this  ?     My  merry  laughing  Jacques, 
So  deep  in  thought !     What  is  there  in  your  mind  ? 
Some  plan  wherewith  to  while  away  the  time 
That  hangs  so  heavy  on  these  fair  white  hands? 
[The  KING  holds  up  his  hands,  and  looks  at  them  languorously. 
THE  JESTER: 

Nor  of  your  hands,  nor  of  yourself,  thought  I. 
My  mind,  O  King,  was  bent  on  serious  things ; 
Your  place  is  not  with  them. 

THE  KING  (half  frowning) :  Forget  not,  Fool, 

The  salt  of  wit  makes  us  athirst  for  more, 
But  it  mislikes  us  when  there  's  pepper  in  't. 
[     37     1 


THE  DUKE: 

The  Fool  is  growing  impudent  of  late. 

Full  oft  I  've  noted  it,  my  liege.     'T  is  that 

You  pamper  him  too  much. 
THE  KING:  My  lord  the  Duke 

Presumes  too  far  to  criticize  the  King. 
[The  KING  breaks  into  a  laugh. 

My  faith!  good  sirs,  let's  change  our  mood,  and  smile 

For  King  and  Lord  and  Fool,  all  three  of  us, 

Have  let  the  surly  thunder  turn  us  sour 

E'en  like  a  bowl  of  milk.     Come,  Jacques,  a  jest 

To  drive  away  the  clouds  of  our  ill  mirth. 
THE  JESTER  (smiling  curiously) : 

A  jest,  my  liege  the  King? 

THE  KING:  Said  I  not  so,  a  jest. 

THE  JESTER  (turning  to  the  DUKE,  with  the  same  smile) : 

A  jest,  my  lord  the  Duke? 

THE  DUKE:  Why,  yes,  a  jest. 

THE  KING: 

But  why  asked  you  the  Duke  ?     It  should  suffice 

That  I  the  bidding  made. 
THE  JESTER: 

An't  please,  my  liege, 

'T  was   but  the  introduction  to  my  jest. 
[The  other  lords   and  ladies  come   nearer,  and  the  JESTER 
begins: 

[     38     ] 


There  lived  in  France  a  mighty  Duke  who  here 
Shall  nameless  be — the  tale  remains  the  same, — 
And  in  his  wide  domain  where  ran  a  brook 
That  like  a  drunken  man  swerved  in  its  course 
Until  it  tumbled  o'er  some  slippery  stones 
And  fell,  there  stood  a  house — the  lodge. 
Without  its  walls  in  summer,  roses  bloomed ; 
Within,  there  dwelt  a  maiden  all  year  through — 
The  daughter  of  the  keeper  of  the  game. 
She  was  as  highly  bred  as  lowly  born, 
And  good  as  fair,  and  beautiful  as  pure. 

THE  DUKE  (sarcastically} : 
The  Fool  turns  poet. 

THE  JESTER: 

The  Duke  turns  pale.     Is  it  to  match  my  mood, 
Since  poesy  and  pallor,  people  say, 
So  often  dwell  together? 

[The  DUKE  flushes,  but  does  not  answer,  and  the  JESTER 
continues: 

Elise  la  bien-aime'e, 

Her  neighbors  called  her.     Ay,  and  well  beloved 
Was  she  of  all  who  knew  her.     But  beloved 
The  best  of  a  poor  jester  whom  Elise 
Had,  on  a  winter's  night,  found  at  her  door; 
By  cold  indifference  and  the  stormy  winds 
He  had  been  driven  thither  hunger-mad, 
[     39     ] 


But  not  for  bread.     It  was  his  soul  that  craved, 
And  human  kindness  was  the  food  it  sought. 
Elise,  compassion-prompted,  bade  him  come 
And  be  a  welcome  guest  within  her  home 
Whene'er  he  listed  thus  to  spend  an  hour.  .  .   . 
The  Duke,  methinks,  grows  weary  of  the  tale, 
So  I  will  tell  as  briefly  as  I  may, 
How  first  a  sense  of  pity  made  Elise 
Be  kind  to  the  poor  jester;  and  how  then 
The  bond  grew  stronger  till  it  changed  to  love 
On  her  part,  as  on  his. 

THE  DUKE: 

I  thought,  my  liege,  we  were  to  hear  a  jest, 
And  not  the  maudlin  tale  of  some  fool's  love. 

THE  JESTER: 

If  but  the  Duke  will  listen  to  my  tale 
Until  it  end,  he  will  not  miss  the  point. 
(Aside.}     Nor  it,  by  heaven,  him! 

[Continues : 

The  neighbors  said:  "Thou  errest,  Bien-aime'e. 
Thou  shouldst  have  other  lover  than  a  fool. " 
Then  she  would  smile  and  answer:  "  Ah,  but  love 
Cares  not  for  wisdom,  nor  for  looks  nor  wealth. 
For  it  is  wiser  than  all  wisdom  is ; 
More  beautiful  than  beauty's  self;  more  rich 
Than  all  the  kings  than  ever  reigned  in  France. " 
[     40     ] 


[The  JESTER  pauses;  then  continues: 
It  chanced,  some  weeks  before  the  wedding-time, 
The  lord  of  all  the  lands  stopped  at  the  lodge. 
He  saw  Elise  and  thought  no  more  that  day 
Of  hunting  stag  or  boar;  for  here  in  truth 
Was  nobler  game  more  worthy  to  be  trapped. 
So  when  the  jester  reached  that  night  the  lodge 
He  found  Elise  in  tears.     "Ah,  dear,"  spake  she, 
"  His  Grace  the  Duke  has  passed  this  way  to-day ; 
He  has  seen  fit  to  speak  of  love  to  me. 
He  begged  me  share  his  power,  lands,  and  wealth, 
And  yet  he  begged  me  not  to  share  his  name ; 
So  that  I  knew  it  was  not  love  he  spoke, 
Since  love  shares  all  and,  with  unstinted  hand, 
Grows  richer  in  the  giving.     Yet,  what  if 
His  Grace  the  Duke  doth  feel  some  love  for  me. 
I  care  not  for  it,  but  for  yours  alone, 
For  yours,  for  yours!"     She  wildly  threw  her  arms 
Around  the  jester  who  throughout  the  speech 
Stood  rooted  to  the  spot  like  one  who  sees 
The  walls  of  Fate,  the  Grand  Inquisitor, 
Close  slowly  in  upon  his  happiness. 
But  when  Elise  had  ceased  to  speak,  a  cry 
Burst  from  the  jester's  lips,  and  he  did  swear 
That  neither  God  above  nor  Duke  below 
Should  come  between  his  love  and  him. — But  why, 


My  lords  and  ladies,  shrink  you  back?     Perchance 

I  tell  the  tale  too  well  and  make  it  seem 

Too  realistic  for  such  dainty  ears. 

If  so,  then  pardon  me,  wait  but  a  while 

And  you  shall  hear  the  jest  whereof  I  spoke. 

The  fool  allowed  the  torrent  of  his  words 

Full  flow,  until  Elise  smiled  at  his  wrath, 

The  sad,  sweet  smile  of  pitying  love,  and  said : 

"  Peace,  dear  beloved.     Go  you  to  the  Duke, 

And  plead  your  cause  and  mine.     It  may  avail; 

For  when  I  tried  he  almost  yielded  once, 

Ay,  would  have  yielded,  had  his  gaze  not  lit 

Upon  the  cursed  beauty  of  my  face 

As  I  knelt  there  before  him.     But  to  you 

The  Duke  may  listen  with  a  kindlier  ear. 

If  you  succeed,  why  then,  we  '11  live  and  love; 

And  if  you  fail,  this  dagger" — here  she  plucked 

From  out  his  belt  the  jester's  jewelled  blade — 

"  Shall  argue  well  my  cause  before  the  Duke. 

For  I  am  yours,  and  ever  will  be  yours, 

And  only  yours. "     She  kissed  him  tenderly. 

"  Go  now.     God  speed  you,  dear. " 

[The  storm  meanwhile  has  ceased,  and  the  sun  at  this  point 
breaks  forth  gloriously  from  behind  some  clouds. 

A  COURTIER  (interrupting) : 

Why  see,  the  storm  is  over,  and  the  skies 
[     42     ] 


Are  turning  blue.     We  yet  shall  have  our  hunt! 
THE  DUKE  (to  a  lady) : 

Let  us  go  forth.     The  tale  is  tedious  grown. 
The  point  's  too  long  in  coming. 

THE  JESTER  (barring  the  passage) : 

Wait,  my  lord! 
I  bid  you  wait ! 

THE  DUKE  (angrily) : 

What  mean  you  by  this,  Fool? 

t 

I  brook  no  insolence. 

THE  KING: 

Oh,  humor  him, 

That  we  may  sooner  hear  the  jest,  my  lord. 

[The  DUKE  bows,  and  remains  standing  near  the  door.     The 
JESTER  then  continues  the  tale. 

THE  JESTER: 

The  meanest  coward  turns  at  love's  behest 
Into  a  hero,  and  the  poorest  fool 
Becomes  a  sage.     And  so,  with  naming  heart 
And  cunning  mind,  he  went  to  seek  the  Duke. 
Amid  his  followers,  gathered  round  the  board 
That  groaned  beneath  the  weight  of  wine  and  meat, 
He  found  him,  loud  in  song.     The  music  ceased 
Upon  the  entrance  of  the  fool,  for  straight 
The  Duke  divined  his  errand,  and  bade  fall 
Silence!  upon  the  drunken  revellers. 
14  You  come,  O  fool,"  said  he,  "propitiously, 
[     43     1 


For  we  have  sung  the  songs  of  wench  and  wine 
Till  our  poor  lungs  pant  piteously  for  rest. " 
The  jester  answered,  thrusting  down  his  fear : 
"  My  lord,  I  come  with  no  new  tale  to  tell, 
But  with  a  boon  to  crave.     You  know  Elise — ' 
"Ay,  well  he  does,"  broke  in  a  wine-soaked  wag, 
"And  he  will  know  her  better,  swear  to  that!" — 
Unmindful  of  the  laugh  that  roared  around, 
The  fool  spake  on:  "I  love  her,  my  lord  Duke, 
As  only  he  can  love  who  has  naught  else 
In  all  the  world  beside.     Have  mercy,  Duke! 
Say  that  you  will,  and  my  whole  life  is  yours, 
My  fealty  and  heart's  devotion  all. 
You  who  have  but  to  speak,  and  all  of  France 
Brings  forth  her  noblest  maidens  for  your  choice, 
Will  surely  spare  this  one  so  lowly-born 
Who  is  the  total  of  my  happiness, 
And  who  loves  me  as  I,  my  lord,  love  her. 
What  would  you  gain  did  you  deny  our  plea  ? 
A  flower  without  fragrance;  ay,  a  star 
Wherefrom  the  light  is  fled,  and  there  remains 
Naught  but  the  soulless  body,  cold,  forlorn. 
For  such  is  maiden,  man,  or  god,  or  beast, 
Yoked  by  a  bond  whose  strength  lies  in  aught  else 
Than  that  which  love  commands.    And  therefore,  Duke, 
Grant  this  my  prayer,  and  leave  Elise  to  me. " 
[     44     ] 


[The  courtiers  and  ladies  listen  intently,  for  there  is  a  passion 
ate  tone  in  the  words  of  the  JESTER  as  he  recounts  the 
tale.  The  KING  looks  quizzically  at  the  DUKE,  who  is 
still  standing  near  the  door,  and  then  turns  to  the  JESTER. 

THE  KING  (smiling] : 

The  feeling,  Jacques,  you  put  into  these  words 
Would,  by  my  faith !  near  warrant  the  belief 
They  are  your  own.     But  come,  what  said  the  Duke, 
How  answered  he  the  fool's  request? 

THE  JESTER:  Sire,  thus: 

He  waited  first  until  the  revellers'  mirth 
Had  grown  less  boisterous,  and  then  he  spoke. 
"  Why  laugh  you,  friends  ? "  said  he.     "  Is  it  so  strange 
That  what  the  fool  desires  he  should  seek? 
Or  is  the  well-spring  of  your  mirth  stirred  up 
By  the  mere  thought  that  he  my  rival  is? 
A  fool  's  a  man,  a  fool  has  rights,  my  friends, 
E'en  though  a  duke  should  challenge  them.     Think 

you 

The  jingle  of  the  bells  upon  his  cap 
Sounds  in  the  ear  of  God  less  musical 
Than  tinkle  of  the  crystal  goblets  here 
Raised  high  by  trembling  hands  of  drunken  lords?" 
Then  turned  he  from  the  revellers  to  the  fool 
And  said:  "  Elise  is  yours.     7  give  her  not, 
For  she  has  given  herself.     Go  say  to  her 
[     45     ] 


That  Dukes  of  France  look  not  on  woman's  love 
Or  honor  as  a  thing  to  traffic  in, 
And  e'en  a  fool  has  rights. " 

[The  JESTER  ceases  abruptly,  and  slowly  looks  around  the 
room.  The  ladies  shrink  back  as  their  gaze  meets  his. 
The  courtiers  look  with  astonishment  at  each  other.  The 
DUKE,  still  starring  near  the  door,  changes  color  as  the 
recital  ends,  and  a  puzzled  expression  comes  over  his 
face. 

THE  JESTER  (with  a  sudden  outburst  of  passion) : 
Why  laugh  you  not,  ye  lords  and  ladies  all, 
And  you,  0  King,  where  is  your  sense  of  mirth? 
Have  you  not  heard  the  jest?     Is  it  not  good? 
Ye  noblemen  whose  ruthless  lust  has  sent 
Once  honored  men  into  dishonored  graves, 
And  changed  once  happy  homes  to  breeding-place 
Of  curses  and  despair, — does  not  the  thought 
That  e'er  a  Duke  of  France  should  honor  love 
And  love  a  woman's  honor,  though  it  be 
A  peasant  maiden's,  reaping  in  the  fields — 
Does  not  the  thought  arouse  your  mirth,  my  lords? 
And  what  of  this:  that  e'en  a  fool  has  rights, 
Though  they  be  challenged  by  the  peers  of  France  ? 
Is  this  not  cause  for  laughter? 

THE  DUKE  (interrupting) : 

The  Fool  is  mad. 
[     46     ] 


THE  JESTER: 

Ay,  mad,  indeed,  and  to  such  great  extent 
That  e'en  a  ravening  dog  would  envy  me, 
Had  he  a  foe  to  bite.     But  you,  good  Duke, 
Must  surely  see  the  humor  of  my  jest. 

[He  slowly  goes  nearer  the  DUKE. 
Explain  it  to  the  ladies,  who,  it  seems, 
Shake  now  with  fear,  stead  laughter. 

[He  goes  still  nearer. 

This  boon,  the  second  that  I  crave  of  thee, 
Will  be  the  last,  good  Duke. 

[The  JESTER  goes  still  nearer.  The  DUKE  divines  his  pur 
pose,  and  draws  his  sword  just  as  the  JESTER  leaps  at 
him  with  dagger  uplifted.  The  drawn  sword  pierces  his 
breast,  and  he  falls  to  the  ground  dying.  There  is  a  great 
commotion  among  the  ladies  and  the  courtiers. 

THE  DUKE  (turning  to  the  King) : 

He  forced  me  to  it,  Sire,  in  self-defence. 

THE  JESTER  (in  a  voice  scarcely  audible) : 

Had  it  but  reached  his  heart ! 
It  was  the  very  dagger  that  she  used 
To  save  her  honor  when  she  slew  herself. 
Fear  for  her  father's  welfare  held  her  hand, 
Or  she  had  slain  him  too.  .  .  . 

Ah!  wait    .    .   .    Elise    .    .   .   my  love    .   .  .  soon   we 
shall  meet 

[     47     ] 


Where  none  can  come  between  .   .  .   and   e'en   .   .   . 

a  fool  .  .  . 
Has  rights.  .  .  .   (He  dies.) 

[The  KING  points  to  the  door,  and  all  leave  the  room,  except 
ing  the  DUKE,  who  waits  in  silence  for  the  KING  to 
speak. 

THE  KING: 

The  blow  you  struck,  Duke,  was  in  self-defence; 

You  therefore  lay  the  blame  upon  the  Fool. 

'T  is  true.     The  deed  is  done.     And  there  's  an  end. 

But  what  of  her  who  also  struck  a  blow, 

Against  herself  in  self-defence  'gainst  you  ? 

Where  shall  the  blame  be  laid  ? 

[The  DUKE  remains  silent,  and  the  KING  continues: 

In  truth,  my  lord, 

I  loved  the  Jester  whom  so  foully  you 
Have  wronged,  and  now  if  I  should  bid  you  go 
In  exile  to  atone  your  black  misdeed, 
Should  you  have  aught  to  say? 

THE  DUKE:  Not  aught,  my  liege. 

When  you  did  send  the  Count  of  Chartres  away 
Upon  some  dangerous  journey  to  the  East, 
Because-,  poor  man,  his  wife  was  beautiful, 
Did  he  have  aught  to  say?     No  more  have  I. 

[The  KING  flushes,  and  then  grows  thoughtful.     After  a  few 
moments  of  silence  he  speaks. 
[     48     ] 


THE  KING: 

Yes,  you  are  right; 

'T  is  not  for  me  to  judge.     I  too  have  sinned. 
And  gone  unpunished.     But  heard  you  the  words 
Formed  by  the  dying  lips  of  this  poor  Fool  ? 
Perchance  there  is  a  place  where  just  deserts 
Shall  be  dealt  out  by  some  all-righteous  Judge. 
To  His  grace  I  commend  you,  my  lord  Duke. 
Now  go! 

[The  DUKE  bows,  and  withdraws.  The  KING  stands  long 
beside  the  body  of  the  JESTER,  deep  in  thought.  The 
spaniel  all  the  while  is  affectionately  licking  the  face  of 
the  FOOL.  Now  and  then  the  animal  whines.  At  last 
the  KING'S  reverie  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  an 
attendant. 

THE  ATTENDANT  (without  perceiving  the  corpse) : 
The  hounds  await  your  pleasure,  Sire. 

[The  KING  does  not  seem  to  hear  him. 

THE  ATTENDANT  (after  waiting  a  moment): 
Your  steed  is  at  the  gate,  my  liege. 

THE  KING: 

I  go  not  to  the  hunt  to-day. 

[The  attendant  bows,  and  withdraws.     The  curtain  falls.] 


(     49     1 


IMMANUEL  KANT 

SMALL  of  stature — five  feet  tall 
Never  over  strong  in  health ; 

Plain  professor — that  is  all — 
Never  title — never  wealth — 

Never  love  of  child  or  wife — 

Thus  he  lived  throughout  his  life. 

Konigsberg,  the  little  town — 
Was  the  village  of  his  birth ; 

Konigsberg  saw  him  go  down 
In  sweet  death  to  Mother  Earth- 

(Ne'er  he  travelled,  so  they  say, 

More  than  sixty  miles  away.) 

Konigsberg,  how  true  thy  name ! 

Ay,  the  Mountain  of  the  King, 
With  the  crown  of  deathless  fame 

Such  as  gold  can  never  bring. 
For  he  gathered  from  man's  world 
Rarest  gems  of  truth  empearled. 


Master  of  the  realm  of  thought — 
Well  the  limits  have  you  found 

Of  man's  wisdom.     It  is  naught 
Bounded  by  the  infinite  round ; 

For  his  reason,  by  its  laws, 

Cannot  fathom  End  or  Cause. 

Servant  of  the  moral  will, 

Well  you  show  the  lofty  height 

Toward  which  men  may  follow  still, 
Ever  gaining  purer  light, 

Ever  rising  from  the  sod, 

Ever  reaching  nearer  God. 

Not  the  outcome  of  man's  deeds, 
But  the  intent  of  his  act — 

This  indeed  the  creed  of  creeds : 
Will  the  right, — and  if  the  fact 

Be  a  worldly  failure,  then 

Will  the  right,  and  act  again! 

At  the  power  of  your  brain 
Systems  of  tradition  fell : 

Men  invoked  the  curse  of  Cain, 
Calling  you  the  son  of  Hell, 

For  they  saw  not  that  you  led 

To  the  Living  through  the  Dead. 

[     Si     ] 


At  the  power  of  your  heart 
Structures  of  great  faith  arose. 

Though  their  beams  shall  fall  apart, 
Covered  by  the  future  snows, 

This  their  essence  naught  may  kill : 

Man  is  master  of  his  will. 

Poor,  untitled,  weak,  and  small, 
Lacking  woman's  wonder-love, 
Yet  you  found  the  Heart  of  All — 

Yet  you  reached  the  heights  above- 
Making  man's  True  Self  your  chant : 
This  your  fame,  Immanuel  Kant! 


A  WOMAN 

SHE  was  as  fair  as  the  dawn  of  the  day, 
Splendid  as  pearls  in  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

"  What  shall  I  bring  that  at  last  I  may  say, 
Your  love  is  for  me?" 

Brought  her  his  love, — but  she  questioned  its  worth; 

Yielded  his  honor, — she  turned  in  disdain. 
"  Gift  of  my  life  may  move  you  to  mirth!" 

She  smiled  at  him  slain. 

Plucked  a  white  rose  that  lay  on  her  breast 

Whiter  than  whitest  of  roses  in  May ; 
Crimsoned  the  blossom  in  blood ;  with  a  jest 

Went  forth  on  her  way. 


[     53     1 


THE  CHILDREN  IN  THE  FACTORIES 

How  do  you  feed  your  furnaces,  brother  ? 

What  fuel  is  in  your  fires  ? 

Coal  and  wood 

Are  my  furnaces'  food: 

With  them  I  feed  my  fires. 

But  why  do  you  turn  away  your  face? 

An  honest  living  is  no  disgrace, 

And  I  must  feed  my  fires. 

How  are  your  wheels  kept  swiftly  turning  ? 
What  glistens  upon  your  wheels  ? 
Oil  in  great  store 
My  workmen  pour 
Upon  the  circling  wheels. 
But  why  that  loathing  in  your  eye  ? 
Success  itself  doth  justify, 
And  I  must  oil  my  wheels. 
[     54     1 


What  do  you  sell  in  the  market- places, 

Wherefor  they  give  you  gold  ? 

Shining  glass 

And  cotton  in  mass 

I  sell  for  glittering  gold. 

But  why  that  curse  upon  your  lips  ? 

Can  aught  on  earth  my  gold  eclipse, 

My  best-beloved  gold  ? 

With  lives  of  little  children 
Your  flaming  fires  you  feed. 
With  blood  of  helpless  children 
Your  circling  wheels  gain  speed; 
And  souls  of  stunted  children 
You  barter  in  your  greed. 


[     55     t 


THE  SPHINX 

No  need  of  Egypt,  for  man's  mind 

Is  wider  than  all  countries  are ; 
It  soars  above  the  highest  wind 

And  consorts  with  the  furthest  star; 
It  strives  against  the  bars  of  space 

And  knocks  upon  the  gates  of  Time, 
Running  a  never  ending  race — 

Unto  a  goal  sublime? 

No  need  of  Egypt,  for  man's  heart 

Beats  even  with  the  wings  of  years 
And  plays  its  never  changing  part 

Of  sunshine,  sorrow,  joys,  and  tears. 
Unaltered  are  the  quest  and  strife ; 

Old  passions  breathe  we  at  each  breath ; 
Still  at  the  heels  of  every  life 

With  dogged  footsteps  follows  Death. 
[     56     ] 


The  keenest  wind,  the  brightest  star, 

The  deepest  love,  the  purest  hope 
Avail  not  yet  to  all  unbar 

The  gate  of  darkness  where  we  grope, 
Are  we  but  as  the  dust  that  flies, 

And  men  the  mates  to  meaner  things  ? 
The  mystery  still  unravelled  lies 

A  skein  of  strangely  blended  strings. 

No  need  of  Egypt  for,  methinks, 
At  every  hearthstone  sits  the  Sphinx. 


[     57     1 


THE  LYRIC  OF  LIFE  AND  LOVE 

IN  an  ancient  wood  a  castle  stood,  its  walls  were  heaven- 
high, 

Its  moat  so  deep  that  the  realms  of  sleep  would  shallow 
seem  thereby; 

And  ever  a  sound  wandered  around,  and  lost  itself  in  the 
sky. 

Was  it  the  breeze  in  the  hemlock  trees,  sighing  for  other 

days? 

Was  it  the  strain  of  souls  in  pain,  wailing  their  evil  ways? 
It  was  the  prayer  of  a  maiden  fair,  meshed  in  magic  maze. 

In  answer  to  her  the  sorcerer  had  said:  "  You  shall  be  free 
As  the  birds  above,  when  of  Life  and  Love  a  true  lyric  you 

sing  to  me; 
Nor  until  then  tho'  gods  and  men  should  beg  on  bended 

knee." 

[     58     1 


A  heavy  fold  of  hair  of  gold  o'er  either  shoulder  flung, 
Her  eyes  on  fire,  she  grasped  the  lyre,  that  to  her  ringers 

clung; 
Her  voice  was  sweet  as  larks  that  greet  the  morn,  and  thus 

she  sung: 


Life  is  a  lily 

With  bells  of  joy; 
Love  is  its  music 

Without  alloy. 
Pure  is  the  lily, 

Dream-fair  is  love; 
Earth  is  my  witness, 

And  heaven  above. 


The  last  sweet  tone  had  hardly  flown  to  the  realm  of 

silenced  song 
When,  his  heart  astir,  the  sorcerer  recalled  old  passions 

strong, 
And  he  bowed  his  head  in  grief,  and  said :  "  You  have  read 

the  riddle  wrong." 


Again  she  strove  to  sing  of  love,  again  of  life  to  sing, 

But  e'er  the  same  the  answer  came:  "This  is  not  truth 

you  bring." 
And  the  long  years  fled  till  hope  lay  dead,  slain  by  much 

sorrowing. 

L     59     ] 


He  was  not  real,  her  soul's  ideal,  the  lover  of  her  dream, 
Who,  true  and  brave,  should  come  to  save  her  in  her  need 

supreme , 
On  his  fair  face  God's  holy  grace,  and  in  his  eyes  love's 

gleam. 

And  so,  at  last,  when  youth  had  passed,  she  cried:  "  I  have 

it  now. " 
Hark  to  me  well,  thou  son  of  Hell,  O  sorcerer  dark  of 

brow, 
And  set  me   free  from  witchery.       This  is   thy  song,   I 

trow: 

Life  is  a  cypress, 

Servant  of  death; 
Love  is  but  seeming, 

Fleeting  as  breath. 
Dark  is  the  cypress, 

Dream  false  is  love; 
Earth  is  my  witness, 

And  heaven  above. 

The  drear  song  died  on  the  even-tide  that  bore    it    far 

away, 
But  the  spell  of  doom  lay  in  its  gloom,  and  could  not  choose 

but  stay. 
"Say,  have  I  wrought  the  thing  you  sought?"     And  the 

other  answered,  "  Nay. " 

[     60     ] 


The  bitter  tears  of  passionate  years  gave  way  to  calmer 

thought, 
Until,  at  length,  a  greater  strength  than  angry  grief  was 

brought 
To  teach  the  truth  that  age  to  youth  eternally  has 

taught. 

Through  prison  bars  alone  the  stars  had  cast  on  her  their 

light; 
Words  of  the  wise  her  only  eyes  whereby  with  others' 

sight 
Man's  world  she  saw  of  strife  and  law,  of  evil  and  of 

right, 

Save  that  for  her,  interpreter  remained  her  living  soul 
That  wandered  far  from  star  to  star,  that  reached  life's 

every  goal, 
Lived  in  all  men,  and  in  its  ken  comprised  life's  truth,  the 

whole. 

Ah,  she  was  old,  the  hair  of  gold  long  since  had  turned  to 

grey, 

The  glorious  sunrise  in  her  eyes  gone  with  a  far  past  day, 
Yet  not  alone  grief's  sombre  tone  her  strong,  brave  voice 

did  sway: 

[     61     ] 


Life  is  a  rose  that  discloses 
Beauty  which  no  man  supposes 

Hidden  within; 
Love  is  the  fragrance  so  tender 
That  in  our  hearts  doth  engender 

Hatred  of  sin; 

Sin  is  the  worm  that  despoileth 
The  canker  that  cruelly  soileth, 

Yet  cannot  kill  all. 
Sorrow  's  the  sister  of  Duty 
Adding  to  Summer's  beauty 

The  pathos  of  Fall. 

Leaves  of  the  rose  must  be  going; 
Eternally  Time's  winds  are  blowing, 

Yet  will  endure 

The  seed  of  the  blossom  forever, 
The  fragrance  that  Death  cannot  sever 

From  hearts  that  are  pure. 
Joy-begot  spirit  that  seeth 
Clearly,  and  fearlessly  freeth 

Man  from  Sin's  strife. 
Teach  us  all,  chastened  by  Sorrow, 
Bravely  to  face  the  last  morrow 

O  Love  in  Life! 

"May  ill  betide!"  the  sorcerer  cried.     "Thus  to  my  spell 

a  close. 

This  darkened  hall  to  ruin  must  fall  at  the  lyric  of  the  rose, 
And  you  are  free  as  each  must  be  who  life's  deep  truths  once 

knows." 

[     62     ] 


With  his  black  wand  he  touched  her  hand,  then  vanished 

in  eclipse. 
There  was  the  sound  of  crashing  ground,  the  roar  of  battling 

ships. 

********* 
At  last,  free,  free!     In  death  lay  she,  a  smile  upon  her  lips. 


I     63     ] 


MOUNTAIN  VERSES 

PEACE  in  the  wooded  stillness  of  the  night, 
And  in  the  murmur  of  the  waters,  peace. 
The  world's  hot  heart  in  wonder  seems  to  cease 
From  beating,  lulled  by  far-off  starry  light. 

Lake,  forest,  fish  that  swims  and  bird  that  flies, 

Wild  beast,  perchance  that  on  the  morrow  dies,- 

Peace  rests  on  all. 

Yet  is  there  unrest  in  my  inmost  soul — 

A  nameless  yearning  for  an  unknown  goal, 

A  low,  insistent  call. 


A  DIFFERENCE 

A  WORKMAN,  by  despair  made  wild, 
His  stunted  mind  of  sense  bereft, 
Filches  a  coin.     Dear  sirs,  his  child 
Is  starving! — Granted.     Theft  is  theft. 
The  vaunted  laws  of  a  great  nation 
Cannot  excuse  such  desperation. 

Secure  behind  his  walls  of  gold 
The  wealth  of  myriads  this  man  plunders, 
By  vastness  of  his  schemes  made  bold ; 
Nor  recks  the  sound  of  distant  thunders. 
His  followers  with  contented  glance 
Review  his  action  as  finance. 


LAUNCELOT 

*'  GIVE  me  God-speed,  great  King, "  he  said; 

"  Forth  through  the  land  I  go 

Nor  come  till  wrong  be  banished 

And  cruel  knights  laid  low ; 

Nor  come  till  all  be  punished 

Who  wrought  a  woman's  woe. " 

Then  Arthur  spake,  "  Behold  I  place 
My  hands  in  blessing  on  thy  sword. 
Give  me  sweet  leave  to  kiss  thy  face; 
God  ever  grant  thee  every  grace, 
Most  dear  and  valiant  lord. " 

No  farewell  word  spake  Guenevere. 
She  looked  on  him  a  little  while ; 
She  spake  no  parting  word  of  cheer 
But  smiled  a  curious  smile. 
O  fraught  with  woe  past  all  surmise 
The  kiss  she  gave  him  with  her  eyes ! 
O  fraught  with  hope  of  burning  bliss 
That  first  and  fateful  silent  kiss ! 
[     66     ] 


The  blood  ran  cold,  the  blood  ran  hot 
Throughout  the  veins  of  Launcelot; 
He  looked  once  more  upon  the  Queen 
Who  lovely  sate  with  downcast  mien. 

He  lifted  high  his  trembling  sword 
In  last  salute  unto  his  lord; 
Then  to  his  men  he  gave  the  call, 
And,  with  a  great  heart,  clove  in  twain 
By  loving  passion,  loyal  pain, 
Sir  Launcelot  left  the  hall. 


TO  EDMUND  CLARENCE  STEDMAN 
(April  5,  igoi) 

To  all  the  laurels  that  you  wear 

We  will  not  add  a  leaf  of  fame, 
Or  crown  your  oft-encrowned  hair 

With  diadem  of  lofty  name. 
Let  others  wreathe  you  with  the  bays 

That  shall  be  yours  until  the  end ; 
We  come  not  here  to-night  to  praise: 

We  pass  the  evening  with  our  friend. 

Men's  genius  may  be  found  in  marts; 

They  give  unto  the  world  their  brains ; 
They  will  not  wholly  give  their  hearts 

But  hide  a  spot  where  Friendship  re'gns, 
And  keep  it  sacred  from  strange  eyes 

And  from  the  outer  world  defend. 
Earth  has  not  lost  all  Paradise. 

We  pass  the  evening  with  our  friend. 
[     68     ] 


Thy  Paradise  wilt  thou  unbar 

And  let  us  rest  with  thee  awhile? 
We  know  how  fair  the  Spirits  are 

That  in  thy  heart's  most  sacred  aisle 
Have  found  a  place  since  early  days, 

And  what  sweet  grace  their  thoughts  must  lend ; 
We,  too,  would  tread  the  favored  ways: — 

We  pass  the  evening  with  our  friend. 

Ah,  see,  how  rich  the  foliage  is! 

How  warm  the  sunshine  of  thy  smile ! 
How  pure  the  air;  whilst  memories 

Of  youth  make  thee  a  youth  awhile ; 
And  though  thy  hair  be  silvered  snow 

With  confidence  do  we  contend 
Not  age  did  this :  't  is  merely  so 

To  match  thy  heart  and  soul,  O  Friend! 


EVENING  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN  LAKE 
I 

IN  languid  curves  the  ripples  spread 

And  end  in  whispers  on  the  shore ; 
The  hawk  slow  circles  overhead, 

His  day  of  hunting  o'er; 
The  Sun  hath  kissed  the  West  good-night ; 

Immortal  lover !     Kisses  rare ! 
Each  day  they  bring  a  new  delight 

And  leave  fresh  blushes  there. 

O  frail  and  clear  mysterious  gleam 

Trembling  from  on  high, 
Are  you  alone  that  which  you  seem, 

Pale  princess  of  the  sky? 
Thoughts  you  inspire  of  wider  scope 

Than  all  the  heavens  are, 
And  dim  desires  and  deathless  hope, 

O  evening  star. 


Swift  hurtling  through  the  yielding  brush 

His  branching  antlers  back, 
More  swiftly  than  the  startled  thrush 

That  flies  athwart  his  track, 
Unto  his  verdant  meal  the  deer, 

Lord  of  the  woodland,  leaps, 
To  browse  where  on  the  waters  clear 

The  fragrant  lily  sleeps. 


II 


Weary  am  I  of  man's  ways, 

The  failures  we  name  success — 
Our  crowns  and  laurels  and  bays 

That  hide  much  emptiness; 
For  we  bind  the  soul's  freedom  with  thongs, 

With  honor  we  compromise, 
Nor  grant  that  all  wrongs  are  wrongs 

And  that  all  lies  are  lies. 

The  trees  do  not  barter  for  gain, 
And  rich  though  the  harvest  grows 

Its  gold  shall  not  win  for  the  grain 
An  obsequious  bow  from  the  rose. 


The  caress  of  the  soft-lipped  breeze 

And  the  blast  of  the  loud-mouthed  gale 

Are  impartial  to  tallest  of  trees 
And  frailest  of  blossoms  frail. 

You  say :  "  O  dreamer  most  blind 

Yourself  will  you  sweetly  thus  cheat  ? 
Is  the  hawk  to  the  sparrow  kind? 

Has  the  serpent  forgotten  deceit? 
Row  forth  to  the  furthermost  shore 

And  yet  shall  your  vision  be  vain ; 
These  woods  have  seen  carnage  before, 

These  waters  shall  know  it  again. " 

Have  your  way  and  your  say;  but  O  soon 

Come  thou,  my  love,  unto  me, 
And  silent  let  us  commune 

With  all  eternity. 
Short  is  our  day.     It  must  cease 

And  death  is  never  afar. 
Here  in  a  beautiful  world  of  peace 

Shineth  the  evening  star! 


THE  DEATH  OF  LORENZO 
(Careggi,  1492) 
AN  ATTENDANT 

(Opening  the  door  and  ushering  in  Savonarola) 
The  prior  of  St.  Mark's — 

[The  ATTENDANT  withdraws] 

LORENZO 

Is  very  welcome. 

I  feared  you  might  not  come  to  me  at  all, 
Or  until  time  and  I  had  parted  ways. 
Death  is  impatient,  Fra  Girolamo, 
And  beckons  to  me  with  his  bony  hand. 
I  would  confess,  and  have  you  shrive  my  soul. 

SAVONAROLA 

Are  there  no  other  priests  in  Italy? 

LORENZO 

Not  one  less  gracious. 

[     73     1 


SAVONAROLA 

Wherefore,  then,  call  rue? 
LORENZO 

Nor  one  more  honest,  though  he  be  my  foe. 
SAVONAROLA 

Your  praise,  I  fear,  outruns  your  memory, 
For  recollection  tells  me  't  is  no  year 
Since,  at  your  bidding,  Mariano  strove 
To  overwhelm  me  with  his  thunderbolts 
Of  calumny  and  lies.     His  pulpit  rang 
With  accusations  of  so  vile  a  kind 
He  had  not  dared  unless  by  your  command. 
Let  him  be  your  confessor. 

LORENZO 

Nay,  my  friend, 

We  will  not  speak  of  things  a  year  ago ; 
For  then  I  feared  alone  one  man  in  Florence, — 
Savonarola ;  now  I  fear  but  God. 

SAVONAROLA 

Savonarola  is  the  voice  of  God. 
'T  is  He  who  chose  me  prior  of  St .  Mark 's 
Not  you,  Lorenzo;  He  who  bids  my  gaze 
[      74     ] 


Pierce  through  the  veils  of  dim  futurity, 
The  Lord  of  all  the  world.     He  is  my  master. 
I  owe  no  homage  to  the  lord  of  Florence. 

LORENZO 

None  asks  he  of  you  now.  A  dying  man 
Finds  all  too  great  the  burden  of  his  sins. 
Help  you  to  lighten  it. 

SAVONAROLA 

Well,  be  it  so; 

But  only  if  you  grant  all  I  require ; 
Else  to  your  death  unshriven  go  by  me. 

LORENZO 
What  will  you  have? 

SAVONAROLA 

O  cautious  Medici, 
You  promise  naught  beforehand. 

LORENZO 

For  I  fear 

The  reaching  mind  of  Fra  Girolamo. 
[     75     1 


SAVONAROLA 

Three  things  do  I  exact.     First,  that  you  vow- 
Full  faith  in  God's  great  mercy;  without  this 
I  have  no  power  to  shrive  you  of  your  sins. 

LORENZO 

With  heart  submissive,  and  with  penitence 
I  do  confess  my  utmost  faith  in  Him 
Whom  you  and  I  name  Master. 

SAVONAROLA 

Oh,  how  swift 

And  easily  this  meek  response  rushed  forth. 
How  many  a  lie,  with  no  less  speed,  has  leaped 
Destructive  from  your  lips ! 

LORENZO 

You  have  no  right 
To  doubt  my  soul's  sincerity  in  this. 
The  vow  of  faith  I  make  to  God,  not  you. 
Let  Him  be  judge  of  it.     He  will  requite. 

SAVONAROLA 

He  will  requite!     Oh,  that  the  folk  of  Florence 
But  knew  the  meaning  of  those  syllables ! 
[     76    1 


LORENZO 

Your  second  requisition,  prior? 
SAVONAROLA 

Is  this: 
All  that  you  have  unjustly  gained,  restore ! 

LORENZO 

More  have  I  given  from  my  private  purse 
Than  taken  from  mine  enemies  o'erthrown. 

SAVONAROLA 

Have  I  impugned  your  generosity? 
Not  so,  Lorenzo,  but  I  bid  you  make 
Redress  for  tyranny  exceeding  it. 
Volterra's  pillaging  leaps  to  my  mind, 
A  ruthless  act  that  stripped  a  city  bare. 
God  will  remember  it,  if  you  forget. 
And  when  the  hated  Pazzi  were  cast  down, 
Theft  stalked  abroad  beneath  your  willing  gaze ; 
Nor  do  I  know  how  often,  or  how  much 
In  times  of  need,  the  treasury  of  Florence 
Hath  to  Lorenzo  at  Lorenzo's  word 
Given  submissive.     Restore,  restore,  restore! 
God  keeps  accounts,  and,  mark  me,  He  will  know 
If  but  a  single  coin  you  now  withhold. 
[     77     1 


LORENZO 

Beneath  my  pillow  you  will  find  two  keys. 

I  have  not  strength  to  reach  them.      Treasured  vaults 

Spring  open  at  their  touch,  revealing  gold 

In  serried  ranks  of  calm  omnipotence — 

My  armies  that  have  won  my  victories, 

Ruling  the  hearts  of  princes  and  of  mobs. 

Compute  as  best  you  can  what  I  may  owe 

In  restitution:  double  then  your  guess, 

And  trebly  take  the  sum  that  you  have  reached. — 

God  shall  not  think  "A  merchant  deals  with  me." 

SAVONAROLA 
I  come  then  to  my  third  request. 

LORENZO 
It  is? 

SAVONAROLA 

That  you  give  back  her  liberty  to  Florence. 
LORENZO 

How  mean  you,  Fra  Girolamo?     Have  not 
The  citizens  their  vote  in  this  republic, 
Wherewith  to  guide  the  reins  of  government  ? 
[     78     ] 


SAVONAROLA 

O  crafty  quibbler,  at  the  gates  of  death 
Still  do  you  strive  to  throw  your  loaded  dice? 
Florence  is  no  republic,  save  in  name ; 
Hiding  the  abject  soul  of  slavery 
Beneath  the  garb  of  freedom.     You  alone, 
Who  rule  with  sinuous  hand  her  destiny, 
Can  raise  the  crouching  city  from  her  shame. 

LORENZO 
What  will  you  have  ? 

SAVONAROLA 

Proclaim  the  Medici 
Henceforth  but  citizens  as  others  are. 
Decree  that  after  you  have  bowed  to  death 
Our  dearest  city  shall  not  lie  supine 
Beneath  the  feet  of  Pietro,  your  son, 
To  be  his  footstool,  as  she  has  been  yours. 
Give  back  her  liberty  to  Florence! 

LORBNZO 

Priest, 

Hath  not  our  city, — whom  I  also  love, 
Not  less  than  you,  believe  me, — greatly  grown 
[     79     1 


In  learning  and  in  splendor  and  in  power 
Beneath  the  guidance  of  the  Medici? 

SAVONAROLA 

O  galleries  of  paintings  and  rare  art, 
O  gardens  that  are  Edens  to  the  eye, 
Academies  where  ancient  culture  dwells, 
Ye,  have  the  Medici  to  Florence  given. 
O  minds  that  are  serene  in  wisdom's  light, 
O  hearts  that  from  corruption  still  are  pure, 
O  souls  that  turn  with  reverence  to  God, 
Ye,  have  the  Medici  from  Florence  taken. 
Once  more,  Lorenzo,  is  it  yes,  or  no? 

LORENZO 

You  bade  me  largely  from  my  coffers  take 
And  did  I  not  most  lavishly  assent  ? 

SAVONAROLA 

How  shall  your  gold  avail  you  in  the  grave? 
LORENZO 

But  now  you  bid  me  of  mine  honor  give, 
And  slay  the  fame  that  else  outlives  my  death. 

SAVONAROLA 

Give  back  her  liberty  to  Florence ! 
[     80     ] 


LORENZO 

Hear, 

0  Cosimo  de  Medici,  this  monk 
Would  have  me  tarnish  your  illustrious  name, 
And  all  the  glory  of  our  family ! 

SAVONAROLA 

Now  is  the  end,  Lorenzo.     Shall  I  shrive 
Or  leave  accursed  your  sin-encircled  soul? 
Give  back  her  liberty  to  Florence ! 

[LORENZO  turns  his  face  to  the  wall.  After  some  mo 
ments  of  silence  SAVONAROLA  leaves  the  room.  A  little  while 
later  an  attendant  enters  and  finds  LORENZO  dead.] 


TO  ONE  ABSENT 

RICH  summer  floods  the  earth;  o'er  hill  and  vale 
Beauty  reigns  empress  in  her  realm  of  green, 
Deeming  no  single  blade  of  grass  too  mean 
To  be  her  servitor;  the  nightingale 
Voices  his  ecstasy  till  night  grows  pale 
And  lightens  into  day ;  while  all  between 
Shy  dawn  and  dark  eyed  dusk  the  woodland  scene 
Gives  joyous  heed  to  robin,  thrush,  and  quail. 

Oh,  all  this  beauty  in  the  hearts  of  trees 
And  all  this  music  in  the  souls  of  birds 
Can  bring  to  me  no  solace  and  no  ease : 
Lacking  the  music  of  thy  longed-for  words, 
Lacking  the  beauty  of  thy  love-lit  face, 
How  lovely,  yet  how  loveless  is  this  place ! 


SWINBURNE 

HUSHED  is  the  voice  that  set  a  world  on  fire, 
Fanning  men's  passions  with  the  breath  of  flame. 
Yielding  to  Death's  inexorable  claim 
He,  whom  no  fear  on  earth  could  e'er  inspire, 
Hath  loosed  his  vibrant  fingers  from  the  lyre 
Whose  music,  echoing  down  the  halls  of  fame, 
Shall  keep  alive  the  wonder  of  his  name, 
The  master  melodist  of  the  Victorian  choir. 

Oh,  that  his  intuition  were  as  pure, 

His  thoughts  inspiring,  as  his  notes  are  sweet ! 

How  past  compute  his  greatness  would  endure, 

And  mountain-high  fame's  blossoms  at  his  feet! 

The  magic  and  the  music  of  the  sea 

Were  his  who  mastered  not  life's  mystery. 


THE  LESSON 

FROM  the  high-chair  to  my  lap 
When  I  take  the  little  chap 
How  he  smiles  in  baby  glee, 
For  the  best  of  friends  are  we ! 
Then  I  open  wide  the  book 
Guiding  eager  eyes  to  look 
At  the  beasts  all  pictured  there — 
Tiger,  horsey,  moo-cow,  bear ! 

His  the  rapture  not  alone 
As  the  animals  are  shown. 
Ah,  the  happy  little  boy 
Shares  with  older  eyes  his  joy; 
For  me,  too,  a  new  world  lies 
Open,  full  of  sweet  surprise. 
Wondrous  seem  they,  and  how  fair, 
Tiger,  horsey,  moo-cow,  bear! 
[     84     ] 


Much  we  learn  from  sages'  lore, 
And  from  songs  of  poets  more. 
Let  not  sage  or  poet  boast ; 
From  small  children  learn  we  most. 
Sin,  and  grief,  and  care  depart, 
And  new  magic  floods  the  heart 
When  his  sweet-toned  notes  declare 
Tiger,  horsey,  moo-cow,  bear! 


THE  GAME 

"GET  it,"  cries  the  little  voice, 

Voice  of  sweetness,  voice  of  laughter, 

Voice  that  bids  the  heart  rejoice, — 

"Get  it,"  and  he  toddles  after, 

Fast  as  little  legs  can  go 

To  the  ball  he  fain  would  capture ; 

Falls  upon  it,  gets  it  so, 

Smiling  with  a  child's  sweet  rapture. 

Then  again  he  throws  the  ball 
Far  as  baby  strength  is  able : 
Sees  it  fall,  and  bound,  and  fall 
'Twixt  the  bedstead  and  the  table. 
"Get  it," — and  once  more  the  quest, 
So  exciting,  so  beguiling, 
Grants  the  little  boy  no  rest 
Till  fresh  triumph  leaves  him  smiling. 
[     86     ] 


Ah !  if  we  could  also  play 
Games  with  such  a  happy  ending 
Grief  were  further  than  to-day — 
Hope  and  joy  more  near  their  blending; 
But  Fate  flings  the  sphere  of  bliss 
Past  the  reach  of  our  endeavor, 
And  we  touch  it  but  to  miss ; — 
Firmly  we  can  hold  it  never ! 


IN  THE  WOODS 
ROBERT 

You  guessed  wherefore  I  bade  you  hunt  with  me 
And  would  take  no  refusal? 

SIDNEY 

You  know  I  am  a  hunter;  so  are  you. 
The  day  is  clear,  the  deer  here  plentiful. 
What  need  is  there  to  seek  for  cause  beside? 

ROBERT 

It  seems  you  are  less  quick  in  fathoming 
The  minds  of  men  than  reaching  tender  depths 
In  hearts  of  women. 

SIDNEY 

Speech  in  metaphor 

Is  a  fair  road  when  once  the  goal  is  clear ; 
Confusing  else,  and  I  know  not  your  aim. 
Therefore  use  simple  words,  direct  and  few. 
[     88     ] 


ROBERT 

We  came  here  two ;  one  only  shall  go  forth. 

Can  you  now  follow  where  my  thought's  path  leads? 

SIDNEY 
To  murder,  it  would  seem. 

ROBERT 

To  murder?     No. 

There  shall  be  equal  chance  between  us  both. 
Yet  wherefore  ask  you  not  the  motive  now 
That  moulds  my  action  ?     Some  well-feigned  surprise 
Would  suit  yourself  and  the  occasion  too. 
Have  you  no  questions? 

SIDNEY 

None.     For  well  I  know 
Your  jealous  nature,  and  therein  I  find 
All  answers  to  all  questions  left  unasked. 
Yet  to  avert  a  murder  still  in  germ 
My  word  of  honor  here  I  give  to  you 
That  this  October  air  God-free  from  taint 
Is  not  more  pure  than  Ellinor,  your  wife. 

[     89     ] 


ROBERT 

Your  word  of  honor !     Honor  and  your  word ! 

The  poisonous  snake  which  strove  to  strike  at  you 

As  we  came  hither,  and  which  now  is  dead, 

Crushed  by  the  stone  you  threw,  might  well  have  cried : 

"  Lo !     I  am  innocent  of  ill  intent 

I  swear  it  by  mine  own  pure  guilelessness ! " 

Your  word  of  honor!     Now  's  no  time  for  jest. 

SIDNEY 

By  God!     You  drive  me  far.     Robert,  beware 
Lest  fury  throw  my  courage  to  the  winds 
And  make  me  weaken  to  the  craven  part 
That  you  would  have  me  play ! 

ROBERT 

No  craven  part, 

But  man  to  man  with  Fate  for  arbiter. 
The  woods  shall  be  our  witnesses,  and  they 
Shall  keep  our  secret.     Echoes  from  our  guns 
Shall  echo  into  silence. 

SIDNEY 

And  the  world, 

That  million-headed  Cerberus  whose  jaws 
[     90     ] 


Will  bite  and  rend  unless  you  throw  it  sops, 
How  shall  its  hideous  noise  be  quieted 
If  we  should  do  this  deed  ? 

ROBERT 

One  often  hears 
Of  accidents  in  hunting. 

SIDNEY 

Ellinor 
Is  innocent! 

ROBERT 

We  spoke  of  accidents. 
If  you  should  live,  it  was  a  sudden  shot 
That  leaped  unhappy  from  your  careless  gun 
Slaying  the  friend  you  loved.     If  I  survive 
The  "your"  becomes  a  "my,"  the  "you"  an  "  I, 
And  in  all  else  the  tale  unaltered  stands. 

SIDNEY 
If  both  should  fall? 

ROBERT 

I  had  not  thought  of  that ! 
It  is  not  likely.     We  must  take  the  chance. 
If  one  is  wounded  and  the  other  dead, 


Why  then,  a  stag  swift  turning  in  his  flight 
Took  course  between  us,  parted  by  some  space, 
And  we,  with  thoughts  all  centring  in  the  hunt, 
Paid  sadly  for  the  strange  leap  of  the  beast 
In  injuring  each  the  other,  one  to  death. 

SIDNEY 

How  easily  you  plan  to  circumvent 
The  world's  suspicion  of  a  future  wrong. 
And  yet  you  have  not  power  to  opposs 
Your  own  suspicions  of  a  wrong  not  past, 
Not  present,  and  as  far  from  being  done 
As  deepest  darkness  is  from  brightest  sun. 

ROBERT 

Waste  not  your  strength  in  words  that  brand  you  false. 

Swift  bullets  are  the  only  argument 

That  can  convince  me  now;  for  Ellinor, 

She  that  was  once  my  wife,  has  not  denied 

The  cursed  truth  you  lying  called  a  lie. 

So  new,  the  rifles,  come! 

SIDNEY 

Denied  ?  Denied  ? 

Madman,  you  questioned  her,  insulted  her, 
And  would  have  her  deny?  Do  you  not  know 

[     92     ] 


That  highest  purity  and  highest  pride 

Meet  interfusing  in  the  magic  woof 

Of  a  true  woman's  nature?     Should  she  say: 

"  Nay,  I  am  not  the  vile  thing  that  you  deem, " 

And  by  her  answer  touch  the  lower  plane 

Whereon  contemptible  you  questioning  stand  ? 

ROBERT 

If  Ellinor  had  loved  me  as  I  her 

She  would  have  recognized  that  love  distraught 

Can  not  be  calmed  by  silence.     But  she  loves 

Not  me,  her  husband.     Come,  we  but  waste  words! 

SIDNEY 

Nay,  wait !     For  thus  I  cannot  let  you  die 
Nor  die  myself.     Know  then  that  it  is  you 
And  only  you  she  loves,  and  that  her  love 
Because  so  deep  and  pure  could  never  guess 
The  shallowness  and  murkiness  of  yours ; 
So  shallow  that  suspicion's  lightest  breath 
Roused  furious  waves  of  passion  ruinous, 
So  murky  that  most  hideous  of  thoughts 
Found  there  swift  welcoming.     She  could  not  see 
Beneath  dark  accusation's  awful  mask 
The  love  you  say  you  bear  her.     Thus  in  pride 
[     93     1 


Her  silence  gave  the  answer  to  your  words. 
Had  you  but  seen  her  heart,  there  had  you  read: 
"  Robert,  you  only,  only  you  I  love. " 

ROBERT 

Perhaps  within  the  barrel  of  my  gun 

Death  at  this  moment  lies  in  wait  for  you. 

Yet  standing  on  the  verge  whence  at  a  bound 

You  leap  into  Eternity's  vast  realm 

Where  God — who  knows? — gives  justice  unto  all, 

Here  lying-lipped  you  bid  your  life  adieu. 

Well,  courage  is  of  many  kinds.     And  now? 

SIDNEY 

And  now  that  I  have  done  my  uttermost, 
And  can  no  more  to  make  your  mind  grasp  truth 
Your  eyes  to  see,  your  heart  to  feel — why  then, 
What  if  I  say:  "  I  will  not  fight  with  you  "? 

ROBERT 
We  came  here  two;  one  only  shall  go  forth. 

SIDNEY 

This  way  or  that  way,  it  is  murder  still. 
I  will  not  fight  the  duel ! 

[     94     1 


ROBERT 

Nay,  you  must ; 

For  what  are  right  and  wrong  but  social  use  ? 
And  you  and  I  are  now  our  only  world 
Wherein  our  wills  are  sanction  for  our  deeds. 
If  we  agree,  thus  shall  the  wrong  be  laid. 
What  need  we  care  for  statutes  and  for  laws  ? 
We  are  alone.     The  forest  is  our  world. 
We  fear  not  death.     Let  us  therefore  agree. 

SIDNEY 

If  we  could  go,  if  you  could  go  alone 
Unto  the  utmost  Teachings  of  the  globe 
Where  the  stars  shiver  in  the  northern  cold 
And  in  eternal  ice  the  earth  lies  wrapped, 
You  would  not  be  removed  a  millionth  part 
Of  millionth  inch  of  space  from  that  stern  bar 
Whereat  is  given  the  verdict  of  men's  deeds. 
The  minor  customs  of  diverging  times, 
The  usages  that  are  the  toll  we  pay 
On  life's  full  highway,  these  all  readily 
Can  be  thrown  off  in  solitude,  as  one 
Bathes  naked  in  the  forest,  unashamed. 
But  his  high  sense  of  what  to  him  at  least 
Is,  was,  and  must  be  everlasting  right, 
[     95     ] 


The  purpose  to  hold  fast  to  honor's  law 
As  his  eyes,  irrespective  of  all  else, 
Read  justice,  this  no  man  can  ever  lose 
Though  of  the  human  race  he  be  the  last, 
Alone  upon  a  devastated  earth. 
For  highest  honor  is  that  honor  high 
Which  to  our  higher  selves  we  owe,  a  debt 
That  every  man  must  ever  recognize. 
I  will  not  fight  the  duel ! 

ROBERT 

Self,  self,  self! 

Can  you  not  think  of  her,  of  Ellinor? 
Unless  you  fight,  I  swear  upon  my  word, 
My  word  of  honor  that  none  may  gainsay 
Henceforth  exposed  to  public  gaze  she  goes 
Smirched  with  disgrace,  and  branded  with  her  shame. 
Now  will  you  face  the  combat  like  a  man, 
Or,  like  a  coward,  let  the  world's  hard  eyes 
Dwell  with  contempt  upon  your  Ellinor, 
The  woman  whom  you  love  ? 

[A  pause.] 

SIDNEY 

That  shall  not  be. 

And  I  do  love  her.     Come,  take  you  your  stand. 
Your  words  have  made  we  ready. 
[     96     ] 


ROBERT 

God  be  thanked! 
A  hundred  paces — will  that  be  enough? 

SIDNEY 

Five  times  enough.     If  there  's  a  deed  to  do, 
Why,  do  it  thoroughly  or  not  at  all. 

ROBERT 

If  this  is  courage  you  are  brave  indeed. 

If  it  is  desperation's  dying  thrust 

Then,  too,  I  meet  it  gladly. — From  this  bush 

Take  you  ten  paces;  ten  steps  will  I  take, 

And  then  we  turn.     Give  you  the  one  word,  "  Fire," 

Whereat  we  shoot.     You  understand? 

SIDNEY 

Yes,  all. 
ROBERT 
Have  you  your  place? 

SIDNEY 

I  have.     And  you? 

ROBERT 

I  mine. 
7  [     97     3 


SIDNEY 

Fire! 

[The  smoke  clears  away.] 

ROBERT 

Your  bullet  struck  me  not. 
SIDNEY 

Nor  did  yours 
Strike  me. 

ROBERT 

Strange  that  an  aim  so  straight  as  yours 
Should  at  this  distance  fail! 

SIDNEY 

And  no  less  strange 

That  you  whose  skill  as  hunter  is  far  known 
Should  this  time  miss  your  mark ! 

[A  pause.] 

Why  did  you  wish 
To  spare  my  life  ? 

ROBERT 

Because  of  Ellinor 

Whom  I  so  love  despite  her  guilt  with  you 

[     98     ] 


That  if  my  death  together  with  your  life 

May  bring  her  happiness  and  lasting  peace 

My  gun  shall  fail  while  yours,  please  God,  aims  true. 

This  is  the  truth.     The  truth  now  tell  to  me. 

Wherefore  shot  you  amiss? 

SIDNEY 

Because  of  her, 

Of  Ellinor,  your  wife  who  loves  but  you, 
And  whom  I  love,  and  for  whose  peace  and  joy 
I  count  it  happiness  to  lose  my  life ; 
By  mine  own  death  thus  giving  proof  to  you 
Of  that  for  which  my  word  did  not  suffice. 
This  is  the  truth.     Will  you  believe  me  now? 
[A  pause.] 

ROBERT 
Can  you  forgive  me,  Sidney? 

SIDNEY 

I  forgive. 

ROBERT 

And  Ellinor,  will  she  forgive,  think  you? 

[     99     ] 


SIDNEY 

Love  pardons  all,  and  of  to-day's  events 
She  need  not  ever  know.     The  woods  grow  dark. 
Let  us  be  going.     Yonder  is  the  path.  .  .  . 
How  they  will  twit  us  when  they  see  us  come 
Without  a  partridge  even  from  the  hunt ! 


NAPOLEON  IN  HELL 

AROUND  him  in  wild  flaming  surges  seethed 
The  furious  tumult :  crazed  with  wrath  the  horde 
Whose  fierce  reverberated  shriekings  poured 
Torrential  on  him;  close  and  closer  breathed 
Mad  visages  of  awful  vengeance,  wreathed 
With  flames  less  ardent  than  the  passion  stored 
In  souls  that  cursed  the  Corsican  whose  sword 
Had  in  their  blood  and  in  their  hearts  been  sheathed. 

A  mother  thrust  before  his  eyes  the  limb 
Of  her  son  mangled,  saying :  "  Eat  the  dead 
Who  battened  on  the  living  "; — spat  on  him, — 
The  man  whose  will  had  been  all  Europe's  dread! 
He  saw  her  not,  nor  heard  the  hellish  crew, 
Still  silent  brooding  over  Waterloo. 


THE  MOOD  OF  BLISS 

THE  slightest  touch  of  the  careless  hand 

Mars  forever  the  butterfly's  wing, 

Nor  any  artist  in  any  land 

Its  pristine  beauty  shall  restore 

To  the  perfect  thing,  the  fragile  thing 

Forevermore. 

The  slightest  tones  of  the  careless  word 

To  the  mood  of  bliss  an  end  will  bring, 

And  its  return,  O  hearts  deep-stirred, 

In  vain,  alas,  you  will  implore 

Of  the  perfect  thing,  the  subtle  thing 

Forevermore. 


[     I02     ] 


LYRIC 

LOVELY  lily  of  the  lake, 
White  and  gold  and  fair  to  see, 
What  is  all  your  loveliness 
Now  to  me  ? 

Glorious  cloud  that  cleaves  the  sky, 
To  the  highest  angels  dear, 
Can  you  say,  ' '  Take  heart,  take  heart, 
She  is  here"? 

She  is  gone  from  out  my  sight 
Who  is  fair  as  ye  are  fair. 
Lilies  now  are  foolish  leaves ; 
Clouds  but  air ! 


[    103    ] 


COMPENSATION 

SMITE,  smite,  smite  on  the  anvil  of  life,  O  Man, 

With  courage  for  your  hammer,  that  you  perfect  your  plan ; 

And  if  the  goal  you  reach  not,  this  thought  shall  be  your 

pay: 
The  sparks  struck  forth  by  your  hand  will  light  another's 

way. 


THE  TROOPS  RETURNING 

TRIUMPHANT  banners  hid  the  smiling  sky, 
While  blossoms  clustered  under  marching  feet ; 
The  shouts  of  welcome  ringing  down  the  street 
Drowned  in  their  joy  a  sonless  mother's  cry. 


[     104     ] 


NIGHT  IN  ALASKA 

THE  lofty  mountains  with  the  starry  sky 
In  still  communion  stand ;  the  wooded  shores 
Whisper  a  soundless  message  to  the  waves, 
And,  in  the  quiet  of  the  night,  the  soul 
Perceives  its  kinship  with  the  infinite. 
When,  lo!  the  winds  bear  down  an  eagle's  cry 
That  rends  the  silence  with  an  earthly  sound 
And  breaks  the  spell  which  wove  the  world  in  one! 


AN  INSCRIPTION 

COULD  words  express  thy  loveliness 
Or  pen  and  ink  thy  charms 
This  pen  would  covered  be  with  rust, 
The  ink  would  dry  and  turn  to  dust 
Before  my  words  of  praise,  dear  friend, 
Could  reach  their  end. 


[     105     ] 


LINES  SUGGESTED  BY  THE  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY 

THE  foam  of  ocean  kisses  lies  white  about  the  feet 

Of  her  whose  flames  are  blisses  to  all  the  eyes  they  greet. 

A  statue  such  as  this  is,  when  shall  you  ever  meet  ? 

Not  in  beauty,  not  in  worth. 

Counted  forth  in  bronze  or  gold, 

But  such  loveliness  as  earth 

Never  fully  wrought  of  old. 

To  the  shackled  a  releasing, 

To  the  loyal  a  caressing, 

And  to  all  the  world  a  blessing — 

Ay,  a  blessing  manifold. 

Greece  was  for  the  Greeks  alone ; 
Her  arms  stretch  to  all  mankind, 
Yearningly  a  little  more 
To  the  wretched  and  the  poor 
Who  at  last  a  haven  find  on  her  hospitable  shore ; 
Symbol,  guide,  and  inspiration 

Of  the  freedom  and  compassion,  heart  and  heart  blood,  of 
our  nation. 

[     106     ] 


When  in  mingled  bronze  to  mould 

Or  to  carve  in  massive  stone 

Virtues  such  as  these, 

Mighty  masters,  have  you  known, 

Phidias  and  Praxiteles? 

Beauty,  beauty  was  your  theme. — 

There  are  times  when  all  endeavor 

Looms  a  worthless  toil  forever, 

And  only  beauty's  visions  seem 

The  soul's  oases  in  life's  desert  dream. 

I  too,  am  beauty's  servitor ; 

I  kneel  and  worship  her; 

I  would  not  make  her  loveliness 

The  shadow  of  a  whisper  less. 

But  yet,  beyond  the  mists,  afar, 

At  heaven's  highest  height  behold  the  steadfast  star! 

We  see  it,  hushed  and  wondering, 

In  this  imperfect  world  the  only  perfect  thing. 


[    107    ] 


CARL  SCHURZ 

His  conscience  knew  not  compromise 
He  never  stooped  to  rise ; 
And  all  the  honors  of  this  world 
Were  less  than  honor,  in  his  eyes. 


108 


THE  BISHOP'S  DREAM 

THE  Bishop  sat  writing  and  writing  away 

For  the  King  was  coming  to  church  that  day, 

And  he  vowed  that  the  heart  of  his  liege  should  be  stirred 

By  his  lofty  strain  and  eloquent  word. 

So  he  sought  in  a  thousand  careful  ways 

To  prune  this  sentence  and  turn  that  phrase 

Till  his  themes  be  wrought  in  their  proper  relation: 

Chastity,  courage,  and  abnegation. 

For  he  knew  that  the  grant  of  a  boon  was  at  stake 

Such  as  King  could  yield  and  Bishop  take. 

Power  and  wealth  in  the  balance  hung, 

And  he  counted  much  on  his  honied  tongue. 

Nor  in  vain;  for  his  discourse,  people  say, 

Rose  on  inspired  wings  that  day. 

E'en  in  frivolous  hearts  his  words  sank  deep 

And  hardened  courtiers  were  seen  to  weep. 

The  King  at  the  doors  of  the  church  stood  awhile ; 
Half  mournful,  it  may  be,  his  quizzical  smile. 
For  a  moment  he  saw,  down  time's  vista,  the  youth 
Whom  years  had  not  robbed  of  his  faith  in  men's  truth — 


A  noble  young  prince ! — The  King  sighed  as  he  glanced 

Where  the  splendid  form  of  the  prelate  advanced. 

"  Indeed,  my  lord  Bishop,  your  lofty  words  stole 

Deep  into  my  heart,  far  into  my  soul. 

Glad  I  am  that  my  people  should  have  such  a  guide 

To  point  them  the  pitfalls  of  passion  and  pride. 

The  virtuous  courage  you  knew  to  display 

Has  left  me  in  debt,  and  the  King  will  repay." 

Whereat  the  other  uncovered  his  head. 
"The  praise  of  my  liege  is  great  honor, "  he  said; 
And  his  crafty  mind  coined,  with  a  thrill  of  elation, 
Swift  into  gold  the  King's  commendation. 

That  evening,  just  at  the  stroke  of  eight, 
The  Bishop  entered  the  palace  gate, 
Revolving  his  plans,  and  wondering 
Whether  his  seat  would  be  next  to  the  King, 
Or  if — and  as  well — his  neighbor  would  be 
The  Duchess  de  Tours  or  the  Duke  de  Crecy. 
Imagine,  then,  the  thoughts  of  his  Grace 
On  meeting  his  partner  face  to  face, — 
Madame  Le"onore  de  1'Espinaisse! 

Search  me  the  whole  of  the  kingdom  o'er, 
But  you  find  no  second  Le"onore. 

[     no     ] 


Hers  was  the  soul  of  Egypt's  Queen, 

Or  the  lustful  soul  of  the  Roman  Faustine, 

And  none  had  dared  but  a  willful  king 

To  bring  to  his  feast  such  a  shameless  thing. 

The  Bishop  drew  back  and  his  face  flamed  red 

E'er  it  paled  with  the  pallor  of  the  dead. 

He  felt,  unseeing,  the  courtiers'  gaze 

As  they  watched  his  countenance  in  amaze. 

A  moment  he  stood,  twixt  wrath  and  fear, 

Till  the  monarch's  soft  voice  fell  on  his  ear: 

"  No  greater  honor,  my  lord,  I  deem 

Than  her  whom  I  hold  in  most  esteem 

To  place  at  your  side,  could  I  surely  show 

To  one  who  the  worth  of  such  favor  will  know. " 

Chastity,  courage — these  words  sound  well 

Where  the  vaulted  cathedral  arches  swell, 

But  too  holy  they  are  to  be  made  the  sport 

Of  rollicking  lords  in  a  ribald  court. 

And  deed  and  speech,  as  all  wise  men  know, 

Cannot  always  through  life  together  go. 

Moreover,  who  holds  the  King's  heart  (entre  nous), 

Holds  for  the  time  his  purse-strings  too. 

So  the  Bishop  murmured,  "Great  good,  little  harm"; 

And  turned  to  the  lady,  and  offered  his  arm. 


Over  the  rivers  and  valleys  of  France 

The  sun  had  cast  his  earliest  glance 

\V  hen,  softly  ensconced  in  his  cushions  deep, 

My  lord  the  Bishop  at  last  sought  sleep. 

But  the  unkind  god  of  slumber  it  seems 

Did  naught  but  grant  him  unquiet  dreams : 

Some  confused,  others  clear;  yet  in  all,  to  the  fore 

Rose  the  form  and  the  face  of  la  belle  Leonore ; 

And  ever  a  silken  tassel  hung 

From  her  braceleted  arm,  and  ever  there  clung 

A  beast  thereunto:  now  a  traitorous  snake, 

Now  a  swine  she  would  lash,  now  a  cur  she  would  shake; 

But  whatever  the  guise  (O  God,  grant  us  grace!) 

The  animal  had  the  Bishop's  face! 

How  he  sought  to  cast  off  the  vision's  spell, 
How  he  cursed  her,  a  demon  come  from  Hell, 
Let  none  seek  to  know,  and  none  hope  to  tell. 
But  most  his  heart  sank  when  an  Angel  arose 
And  spake:  "  Her  slave  thou,  wherever  she  goes; 
Her  slave,  till  thy  dust  returns  unto  dust, 
Who  traitor  hast  proved  to  the  holiest  trust. 
Prostitute  she  of  the  body,  't  is  true ; 
But  soul's  prostitute  is  the  worse  of  the  two." 


The  Bishop  awoke,  his  face  ashen  grey, 

And  trembling  he  tore  the  curtains  away. 

Across  the  great  bed  the  sun's  warm  rays  streamed ; 

Cheerfully  on  the  red  velvet  they  gleamed. 

"  It  was  a  strange  dream  that  I  dreamed, " 

The  Bishop,  stretching  his  white  arms,  said; 

"The  wine  last  night  must  have  gone  to  my  head." 


»3 


PASSAGES  FROM  "  ESTHER  " 


THE  following  excerpts  are  from  an  unpublished  play 
entitled  ESTHER,  whose  plot,  for  the  most  part,  follows 
closely  along  the  lines  of  the  biblical  story,  and  whose  very 
language  is  in  places  adapted  from  the  speech  of  the  biblical 
personages.  In  the  first  of  the  passages  here  printed,  THE 
GOLDEN  VASE,  the  attempt  is  made  to  depict  the  character 
of  the  Oriental  despot  Ahasuerus  at  the  height  of  its  over 
weening  vanity,  its  subtle  capriciousness,  its  resentful  cruelty, 
and  its  power  of  splendid  imagination.  The  first  of  these 
traits,  again  revealed  in  the  scene  entitled  ESTHER  AND 
THE  KING,  makes  evident  the  danger  incurred  by  Esther 
in  later  going  unsummoned  before  Ahasuerus  to  plead  for 
her  people.  In  the  last  excerpt  there  are  contrasted  the 
characters  of  Mordecai,  the  finest  type  of  the  patriarchal 
Jew,  and  Haman,  who  dies  as  he  has  lived,  a  cunning  and 
vindictive  man. 


[     116     ] 


THE  GOLDEN  VASE 

[.A  room  in  the  palace.  The  KING  is  reclining  on  a  couch, 
examining  a  golden  vase.  Near  him  stands  HARBONA,  the 
chamberlain.} 

THE  KING  (angrily) 

Shall  I  be  sport  for  workmen  ?     Answer  me ! 

Shall  clumsy  artisans  thus  mutilate 

And  with  their  damned  chisels  level  down 

My  great  pre-eminence?     Ay,  answer  me! 

Look  now  upon  this  little  manikin, 

This  figurine  that  holds  these  tiny  reins, 

"W  hilst  at  his  side  a  very  charioteer 

Stands  in  all  semblance  equal.     Look  on  this, 

And  say,  is  this  the  King? 

HARBONA  (examining  the  vase) 

My  lord,  be  mild 

And  patient  with  me,  for  indeed  I  see 
A  battle  with  triumphant  skill  portrayed, 
And  in  the  direst  of  the  conflict  you, 


Our  king  and  victor,  brave  beyond  compare, 

To  whom  the  lion  is  a  cowering  cur, 

And  timid  e'en  the  ravening  wolf.     Your  car 

Doth  overroll  with  strong  relentless  wheels 

The  prostrate  forms  of  seven  enemies, 

And  javelins  fly,  whilst  you,  unharmed,  command. 

All  doth  appear  with  cunning  art  designed, 

Each  man  and  beast  in  due  proportion  drawn. 

THE  KING  (mockingly) 

"In  due  proportion,"  disproportionate  fool! 
Is  it  my  due  that  such  proportion  reigns 
As  shall  endow  a  driven  beast,  this  horse, 
With  the  appearance  of  a  sturdier  strength 
Than  in  the  King's  presentment  doth  inhere  ? 
And  see  this  common  soldier!     Doth  he  not 
Ahasuerus  in  his  height  o'ertower? 
Nay,  by  this  scurvy  artist  I  am  made 
A  mock  for  piteous  laughter! 

HARBONA 

Yet,  great  lord, 

He  doth  but  follow  nature,  she  who  gives 
To  all  their  form  and  stature,  grace  and  strength, 
Among  their  fellow  men  of  woman  born. 
[     118     ] 


THE  KING 

This  thought  that  you  would  bring  for  his  excuse 
Doth  all  the  more  enrage  me ;  it  hath  coursed 
A  myriad  times,  a  madness  through  my  veins, 
Burning  its  path,  like  flood  of  living  fire, 
And  threatening  my  reason.     That  I,  I, 
The  ruler  of  all  regions,  should  perforce 
Look  up,  look  up,  look  up  to  statelier  men, 
Or  see  the  mighty  muscle  of  a  slave 
Outswell  the  moderate  power  of  my  arm 
As  wind-filled  sails  of  ships  on  Asian  seas 
Excel  in  natural  majesty  the  sheets 
Of  puny  barks  beside  our  river  banks ! 
Shall  my  humiliation  be  set  down, 
In  metal  graven,  or  on  canvas  kept, 
And  I,  whose  spirit  is  divine,  be  shown 
Throughout  the  years,  a  man  'mongst  other  men? 


HARBONA 

But  hath  not  art,  for  all  its  servitors 
Firm  laws  of  form  and  color,  that  do  bring 
With  their  obedience  beauty,  but,  transgressed, 
Condemn  unto  oblivion  the  o'erbold? 


THE  KING  (taking  the  vase  again) 

Art  hath  no  laws  so  great  as  is  my  will 
Which  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  all  law. 
You  do  forget  that  art  exists  for  me, 
Not  I  for  art.     Be  silent  now,  and  hear 
How  on  this  vase  the  prescient  man  had  wrought 
With  truest  knowledge  of  his  art's  domain 
Ahasuerus.     Here  where  soldiers  swarm 
In  clusters  thick  upon  the  wave  of  war 
My  form  had  towered,  resolute  and  firm, 
A  mighty  pillar.     O'er  the  moving  host 
My  arm  o'erstretched  had  covered  multitudes 
Fearing  its  wrathful  fall.     Mine  enemies 
Had  in  the  shadow  of  each  finger  felt 
Oppression  of  eternal  night,  and  groped 
Like  sailors  desolate  in  the  sun's  eclipse ; 
"While  from  mine  eyes,  whose  circumscribed  size 
The  largest  Persian  shield  were  small  beside, 
Flashed  forth  to  foe  the  flame  of  fiercest  fire, 
But  light  of  perfect  hope  unto  mine  own. 
My  breast  had  heaved  with  triumph  passionate 
And  from  my  lips  the  eager  breath  rushed  forth, 
A  whirlwind  scattering  ruin.     On  my  head 
The  royal  crown,  with  pearls  and  sapphires  set, 
Had  gleamed  half  lost  in  clouds,  as  if  the  gods 
[     120     ] 


Were  placing  majesty  upon  my  brow. — 
So  had  I  filled  all  earth  and  reached  to  heaven ; 
So  had  the  artist  wisely  wrought  my  form 
More  like  my  spirit. 

[He  dashes  the  vase  angrily  across  the  room] 

But  this  cursed  dog 
Hath  made  of  me  a  man  like  other  men. 

HARBONA 

Forgive  him,  King,  who  blindly  did  blaspheme. 
THE  KING 

Let  him  be  blinded.     Then  will  I  forgive. 
Let  him  be  blinded,  Harbona.     I  would 
Not  have  him  carve  such  images  again. 
Go!     I  have  said. 


ESTHER  AND  THE  KING 
THE  KING 

Ah,  my  queen, 

How  like  a  fragrant  lily  you  are  come 
To  bless  mine  eyes  with  beauty's  purity. 
[He  kisses  her] 

ESTHER 
Your  graciousness  bestows  my  grace  on  me. 

THE  KING 

Not  so,  sweet  Esther.     Does  the  wilding  rose 
Whose  orange  petals  perfume  Nishapur, 
Or  slender  stalks  of  hyacinthine  blue 
Thrusting  their  spiked  jewels  in  the  air, — 
Do  tulips  riotous  in  color  rich, 
And  violets  burdened  with  the  soul  of  May, 
Gather  in  royal  gardens  deeper  grace  ? 

[        122       ] 


ESTHER 

With  maiden  lips  unkissed  by  the  sun 

No  bud  could  leap  to  perfect  blossoming, 

But  must  in  hidden  beauty  pass  away. 

So  I  the  gift  to  you  the  giver  bring, 

As  rivers  bear  their  waters  to  the  sea, 

Father  of  clouds  whose  rain  hath  fed  the  brooks. 

Take  then  my  little  all,  and  count  its  worth 

Poor  in  itself,  yet  rich  in  my  desire 

Of  good  and  greater  good  and  greatest  good 

For  you,  dear  King,  for  you. 

[She  kneels  and  kisses  his  hand] 

THE  KING 

The  words  that  dance  upon  your  singing  lips 
Have  caught  the  wonder  of  your  soul.     They  seem 
With  supernatural  harmony  infused 
And  form  a  part  of  your  compelling  charm. 
Now  they  are  nymphs  in  loving  bondage  twined, 
Swaying  in  gracious  unison  to  sounds 
Enchanted  and  enchanting.     Now  your  words 
To  my  enamoured  senses  do  appear 
A  mystic  garland  plucked  in  Paradise 
And  woven  by  some  spirit  of  great  peace 
Whose  wings  are  rainbows. 

[     123     ] 


ESTHER 

See,  O  dear  my  lord, 

How  your  own  words  outrun  my  halting  tongue, 
So  that  now  in  comparison's  fair  light 
Your  glowing  praise  doth  dim  that  which  it  praises. 
As  silence  unto  sound,  as  death  to  life, 
As  nothing  unto  all,  so  does  my  speech 
Express  the  fulness  of  my  love  for  you. 
My  words  are  shadowy  symbols  of  a  sun 
Whose  heat  would  burn  the  founts  of  language  dry 
And  make  the  greatest  poet's  head  to  bend 
In  reverential  silence. 

THE  KING 

All  this  love 
Called  forth  alone  by  me  ? 

ESTHER 

By  you  alone. 

Ah,  take  this  light  of  love  which  is  my  soul 
And  use  it  as  you  will  and  while  you  will. 
It  is  to  me  a  radiance  of  pure  joy 
If  you  but  value  it.     If  not,  dear  lord, 
A  burning  heat  within  a  barren  heart. 
[      124     ] 


THE  KING 

Fear  not  my  negligence.     You  are  become 
Too  sweet  a  portion,  Esther,  of  my  life 
For  me  to  lose  you  now.     Come  sit  by  me 
And  of  your  admiration  strive  to  tell. 

[Esther  seats  herself  on  the  divan  beside  the  KING,  who 
reclines] 

ESTHER 

I  think  you  are  most  splendid  of  all  kings. 
You  have  imagination  more  than  gods 
And  are  to  me  the  kindest  amongst  men. 
These  all  were  reasons  for  my  love,  O  King, 
Did  not  my  love  transcend  all  reasoning. 
Yet  do  I  in  your  courage  glory  much 
And  in  your  dreams  hold  revel  with  the  stars, 
And  shed  for  all  your  kindness  grateful  tears. 

THE  KING 
Dear  Esther! 

ESTHER 

Feel.     My  eyes  are  wet,  O  King. 
[     125     1 


THE  KING 

A  little  while  ago,  and  I  was  wroth 
Because  an  artist  made  me  to  mine  eyes 
Appear  a  man  'mongst  men.     Ah,  sorceress, 
You  have  bewitched  me  in  the  magic  ring 
Of  love's  enchanted  ground,  and  I  confess 
That,  now,  exultant  with  thrice-thrilling  joy, 
I  feel  myself  a  mortal  man,  relieved 
Of  lonely  universal  projects  vast, 
And  weightier  far  than  this  great  crown  of  gold 
Which  with  both  hands  I  lay  aside.     Ah,  now 
I  am  a  man  beloved  by  a  woman! 

[He  takes  her  warmly  in  his  arms] 


ESTHER 

Your  words  have  poured  a  flood  of  ecstasy, 
Bathing  my  being  in  a  perfect  joy. 
At  last  the  dreamed-of  moment  circles  round 
And  finds  us  here  together,  heart  to  heart, 
A  man  and  woman,  lover  and  beloved, 
Beloved  and  lover,  equal  in  their  love. 

[The  KING  puts  her  suddenly  out  of  his  arms,  and 
takes  up  his  crown.] 

\     126     1 


THE  KING  (angrily) 

Equal!     Did  you  say  "equal"  unto  me? 
That  is  a  word  I  never  thought  to  hear! 

ESTHER 

Oh  pardon,  King!     My  speech  but  followed  out 
The  path  you  carved  for  it.     Your  words  were — 

THE  KING 

Mine! 

My  words  were  mine !     But  what  I  of  myself 
May  choose  to  say,  think  you  all  others  dare? 
In  naught  have  I  an  equal,  and  in  love, 
Which  holds  amongst  the  passions  foremost  place, 
As  I  the  leader  am  of  earth-born  kings, 
There  is  most  surely  none  who  is  my  peer! 

ESTHER 

I  kiss  your  hand,  O  master  and  my  lord, 
And  beg  forgiveness,  with  an  humble  heart. 

THE  KING 

Make  unto  this  no  second  error  then, 
And  I  do  now  forgive  and  now  forget. 


[     127     1 


THE  DOWNFALL  OF  HAMAN 

[A  public  square  in  the  City  of  Shushan.  In  the  back 
ground  stands  a  high  gallows.  As  the  curtain  rises  MOR- 
DECAI  and  THE  CAPTAIN  OP  THE  GUARDS  are  revealed  in 
the  foreground.  MORDECAI  is  clothed  in  a  robe  of  linen  and 
purple,  covered  by  a  cloak  of  blue  and  white.  A  crown  of  gold 
is  on  his  head  and  golden  chains  almost  cover  his  breast.] 

MORDECAI 

So  Haman  dies  to-day.     The  wheel  of  fate 
Hath  ta'en  a  mighty  turn,  sped  by  the  hand 
Of  favoring  Jehovah.     Here  stand  I 
Clad  in  the  garment  of  nobility 
And  weighty  with  much  gold. 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Lord  Mordecai, 

The  King  in  honoring  you  but  followeth 
The  pointing  of  divinity's  own  hand 
And  precedent  august. 

[     "8     ] 


MORDECAI 

What  meaning  here  ? 
THE  CAPTAIN 

When  coarsest  sackcloth  stung  your  aged  breast 

And  in  drab  tatters  hung  where  now  clings  gold 

In  carved  clusters,  even  then  were  you 

Clad  in  the  garment  of  nobility ; 

For  through  the  raggedness  there  shone  your  soul, 

And  weighty  with  much  wisdom  were  your  words. 

MORDECAI 

I  think  you  speak  not  as  a  flatterer 
But  as  a  friend.     Sincerity  doth  make 
Your  speech  sonorous  to  my  grateful  ears. 
I  thank  you. 

THE  CAPTAIN 

All  of  Shushan  doth  rejoice, 
Not  I  alone  at  your  new  dignities. 

MORDECAI 

But  tell  me, — for  though  generally  I  know 
These  three  days'  happenings  and  Haman's  fall, 
Yet  have  not  heard  from  Esther's  lips  the  whole,— 
Tell  me  now  all,  each  slightest  word,  each  act 
9  [     129     ] 


That  were  enclosed  within  the  fateful  hour 
When  trembling  swayed  upon  a  woman's  tongue 
Judaea's  destiny. 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Thus  it  befell : 

Ere  the  fourth  dawn  that  followed  your  bold  act 
Had  from  the  bare  sides  of  the  neighboring  hills 
Unwrapped  the  shadowy  garment  of  the  night, 
Esther,  unbid,  in  royal  vesture  stood 
Revealed  in  azure  veilings  crystalline 
And  glorious  in  fearless  loveliness 
Before  the  astonished  King.     Death  held  his  scythe 
Suspended  in  mid-air  and  motionless; 
Upon  the  flowing  sands  within  his  glass 
Time  laid  his  aged  hand,  and  they  were  still ; 
Whilst  Justice  plucked  the  bandage  from  her  eyes 
To  gaze  on  Esther's  beauty. 

MORDECAI 

You  become 
A  poet,  soldier. 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Verily,  her  deed 

And  all  its  mystic  setting  make  me  so. 
For  some  there  are,  and  of  that  number  I, 
[     130     ] 


Who,  awe-struck,  will  past  every  doubting  swear 

That  while  the  King  debated,  and  her  life 

And  all  Judaea's  in  the  balance  hung, 

A  rushing  wind,  as  fearing  to  be  late, 

Bore  through  the  open  gates,  and  brought  to  us 

The  voice  of  distant  thunder,  and  the  voice 

With  godlike  accents  fell  upon  our  souls. 

MORDECAI 

Jehovah's  was  it,  guardian  of  our  race. 
Praised  be  his  Holy  Name! 

THE  CAPTAIN 

The  King's  eyes  leaped 

With  sudden  fire,  and  trembling  held  he  out 
His  golden  sceptre  unto  Esther  saved, 
And  lovingly  he  spake  these  words  to  her : 
"  What  will  you,  Esther,  what  is  your  request? 
It  shall  be  given  to  you  though  you  ask 
The  half  of  this  my  kingdom." 

MORDECAI 

What  said  she  ? 

THE  CAPTAIN 

She  said:  "  If  it  seem  good  unto  the  King 
Let  him  and  Haman  come  this  very  day 


Unto  the  feast  I  have  prepared  for  them. " 

And  when  they  came,  she  bade  them  come  once  more 

Upon  the  morrow,  and  again  they  came. 

MORDECAI 

Now  bid  the  spirit  that  doth  hold  the  key, 

Throw  open  wide  your  gates  of  memory, 

For  you  have  come  unto  the  mighty  hour 

That  shall  endure  until  all  time  be  lost 

And  our  race  ended  with  the  whole  world's  end. 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Each  word  that  crossed  the  threshold  of  that  door, 
Whereby  I  listening  stood,  hath  found  a  niche 
Within  my  mind;  nor  have  I  aught  forgotten. 
Nor  shall  I  aught  forget.     Much  wine  they  drank, 
The  King  and  Haman,  and  with  ardent  eyes 
Ahasuerus  gazed  upon  his  Queen. 
Again  said  he  to  her:  "What  will  you,  Queen? 
It  shall  be  given  to  you,  though  you  ask 
The  half  of  this  my  kingdom.  "     Esther  spake: 
"  If  I  have  met  with  favor  in  your  sight, 
And  if  it  please  the  King,  then  let  my  life 
Be  given  me  at  my  petitioning, 
And  all  my  people's  life  at  my  request. 
For  we  are  sold,  I  and  my  people  sold, 
[     132     ] 


To  be  destroyed,  to  perish,  and  be  slain! 

But  if  we  had  been  sold  in  bondage,  I 

Had  held  my  peace,  although  the  adversary 

Could  not  have  compensated  to  the  King 

For  damage  of  our  loss.     But  he  desires, 

Methinks,  not  only  this  most  dread  revenge 

Because  a  noble  Jew,  the  Mordecai 

Who  saved  your  life,  would  not  bow  down  to  him. 

His  plan,  't  would  seem,  aspires  far  more  high. 

In  the  revulsion  of  the  populace 

Against  such  ruthless  act  of  your  strong  hand, 

He  well  may  find  a  hopeful  chance  whereby 

Ahasuerus  subtly  to  destroy, 

And  wear  himself  that  very  golden  crown 

Whereon  Lord  Haman  looks." 

Then  spake  the  King: 

"Who  is  he,  and  where  is  he,  that  doth  dare 
So  in  his  heart  to  do?"     And  Esther  said: 
"  An  adversary  and  an  enemy; 
Even  this  wicked  Haman." 

[A  messenger  enters  and  after  saluting  gives  a  paper  to  THE 
CAPTAIN,  who  reads  it.     The  messenger  departs.} 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Soon  he  comes 

By  soldiery  surrounded  to  his  death. 
[     133     1 


MORDECAI 

Make  haste.     I  hunger  for  each  syllable. 

What  said  the  King  when  Esther's  speech  found  end? 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Like  to  a  whirlwind  rose  he  then  in  wrath, 

Like  to  a  whirlwind  when  it  grasps  the  waves, 

And  twists  them  into  mountains,  while  the  sands 

Are  hurled  into  the  valleys  of  the  sea. 

His  face  most  royally  empurpled  was 

With  rage  and  wine.     His  eyes  had  tiger's  glint, 

As  unto  him  he  thundered:  "  Is  this  true?" 

MORDECAI 

How  strove  the  snake  to  glide  from  out  the  net  ? 
THE  CAPTAIN 

His  cunning  fled  him.     Haman's  cunning  fled 
As  flees  a  fawn  when  terror  hath  possessed  it. 
With  stricken  eyes  he  stared  upon  the  Queen, 
And,  like  a  note  upon  a  broken  chord, 
His  wailing  voice  was  tremulous  and  thin. 

MORDECAI 

No  melody  from  an  angelic  harp, 
Nor  any  hymn  of  winged  seraphim, 
[     134     1 


Than  myriad  roses  making  sweeter  far 
The  intermediate  air,  could  bear  to  me 
Such  perfect  joy  as  Haman's  broken  voice 
When  he,  my  people's  brazen  foe,  at  bay 
Stood,  hopeless,  in  the  presence  of  the  King. 
How  answered  he  Ahasuerus  then? 

THE  CAPTAIN 

As  though  fate  bade  him,  Haman's  words  were  these: 
"  The  fear  of  beauty  falleth  on  my  soul, 
And  Esther's  anger  flaming  from  her  eyes 
Doth  so  illumine  them  with  God-like  wrath 
That  it  well  seems  as  if  Jehovah's  flame 
Were  stored  within  those  dark  imperial  orbs, 
Forth-leaping  thence  to  scorch  my  trembling  heart. 
Think  not,  Ahasuerus,  that  your  wrath, 
Though  it  bespeaks  the  rage  of  countless  men, 
Legions  in  myriad,  swift  to  do  your  will, 
So  overpowers  and  o'ermasters  me 
As  Esther's  glance.     You  speak  a  nation's  word 
And  in  your  voice  I  hear  a  nation's  tones 
Threatening  destruction.     Nor  will  I  deny 
That  I  do  fear  you,  though  I  do  deny 
That  I  in  aught  am  treacherous  to  you. 
Yet  what  availeth  speech  ?     Through  Esther's  lips 
God  is  demanding  my  deep  punishment, 
[     135     1 


And  from  unrisen  mists  the  future  cries, 

Vengeance,  vengeance,  on  Judaea's  foe. 

But,  queenly  Esther,  be  now  more  than  Queen; 

Be  not  the  Jewess  seeking  for  revenge. 

Ah,  be  a  woman  of  whom  years  shall  say: 

She  saved  her  race  by  being  true  to  it, 

And  letting  truth  and  beauty  plead  for  it ; 

She  raised  her  race  by  being  more  than  it, 

In  loving  mercy  far  exceeding  it. 

Your  race  and  you  I  would  have  wronged,  O  Esther, 

Yet  show  compassion  even  unto  me 

And,  by  a  mercy  great  as  was  my  sin, 

Hide  me  from  the  King's  anger,  and  erect 

A  monument  of  glory  to  your  people. " 

MORDECAI 

What  due  reply  gave  then  the  Queen  to  him  ? 
THE  CAPTAIN 

"  No  wall  of  pity  that  my  words  might  build 
Could  so  surround  your  crime's  most  guilty  sphere 
As  to  make  hidden  the  o'ertopping  growth 
Of  cruel  deeds  your  cruel  will  had  led  to. 
I  judge  you  not  by  that  which  you  have  done, 
The  letters  to  the  satraps  of  the  King 
And  to  the  judges  of  his  provinces 
[     136     ] 


That  yet  must  lead  to  bloodshed ;  and,  more  close 

To  mine  own  heart,  your  plot  'gainst  Mordecai. 

These  I  would  now  indeed  forgive,  O  Haman, 

Because  I  am  so  happy  in  my  love. 

Nor  do  I  judge  you  by  the  issue  dread 

Had  not  Ahasuerus  heard  my  plea, 

With  ear  attuned  to  kindness  and  affection. 

The  rude  extermination  of  my  tribe 

In  these  wide  lands,  the  flow  of  children's  blood, 

The  anguished  cry  of  nursing  mothers,  all 

The  awful  sounds  and  sights  of  furious  war, 

The  lasting  sorrow  in  Judaean  breasts, 

I  might  forgive,  though  all  my  racial  blood 

Leaps  in  my  veins  with  clamor  for  revenge, 

I  might  forgive,  O  Haman,  ah,  dear  King, 

Because  I  am  so  happy  in  my  love. 

Not,  therefore,  Haman,  on  what  you  have  done, 

Or  hoped  to  do,  shall  I  in  judgment  stand. 

Thus  far  my  mercy  goes,  led  by  my  love. 

But  I  will  judge  by  that  which  you  would  do 

Unto  my  people,  Mordecai  and  me, 

Now,  even  now,  if  you  all-powerful 

Should  yet  remain." 

MORDECAI 

And  Haman  answered  ? 
[     137     ] 


THE  CAPTAIN 

"  Queen 

No  harm  I  planned  you. "     Whereat  Esther  smiled 
And  said  unto  him,  "  Knowing  not  my  blood ; 
But  let  that  pass!     What  then  of  Mordecai, 
And  of  my  people?"     Haman  hid  his  face, 
And  said  unto  her,  "  All  my  enemies 
I  now  would  pardon. "     But  she  laughed  aloud 
And  scornful  echoed,  "  Now  would  pardon,  Haman? 
A  twofold  meaning  lurks  within  your  words. 
Now  you  would  pardon,  now  that  death  waits  near. 
But  if  that  now  should  be  a  now  of  power 
How  then,  O  Haman,  would  the  Hebrews  fare? 
Look  in  my  eyes  and  answer. "     Haman  kept 
His  visage  hid,  and  answered,  "They  should  be 
By  me  forgiven,  and  so  Mordecai. " 

MORDECAI 
How  plucked  she  truth  from  lying  lips? 

THE  CAPTAIN 

She  spake: 

"You  looked  not.  in  mine  eyes.     Why  looked  you  not? 
Is  life,  O  Haman,  worth  thus  low  a  lie? 
So  proud  a  coward  I  have  never  seen 
Nor  any  noble  so  ignoble  known." 

[     138     J 


MORDECAI 

And  then? 

THE  CAPTAIN 

With  head  erect  Lord  Haman  spake : 
"  Nay,  Esther,  see  I  gaze  upon  your  face, 
And  thus  make  answer  to  your  questioning. 
If  Mordecai  and  all  the  Hebrew  race 
Were  now  within  my  power,  they  should  be 
By  me  forgiven — nay,  I  recall  my  words. 
I  cannot  look  into  those  eyes  and  lie." 

MORDECAI 

Jehovah's  torch  with  truth  invincible 

Had  kindled  them.     Blessed  be  his  Holy  Name ! 

THE  CAPTAIN 

Then  Esther  slew  him  with  her  eyes,  and  spake: 

"Who  hath  no  pity  can  no  pity  win. 

Hate  begets  hate.     Your  cruel  heart,  O  Haman, 

Doth  seal  your  cruel  fate,  whose  ordering 

I  leave  unto  the  King." 

MORDECAI 

A  queenly  speech, 
Most  worthy  of  a  daughter  of  the  Law. 


THE  CAPTAIN 

Whereat  the  King,  to  gather  time  for  thought, 
With  angry  step  into  the  garden  strode. 
There  oleanders  in  warm  fragrance  bloomed 
Thrusting  far  forth  upon  the  innocent  air 
Great  branches  poisonous  (so  lurks  at  times 
Near  beauty  peril)  laden  with  the  freight 
Of  white  and  crimson  blossoms.     While  he  paced, 
Contending  with  emotions  yet  opposed, 
(For  much  he  leant  upon  his  minister,) 
The  life-imperilled  Haman  strove  within 
To  touch  with  pity  Esther's  burning  heart. 
Where  she  reclined  on  a  golden  couch 
He  knelt  in  supplication,  nor  refrained 
With  anguished  clutch  to  seize  her  garment's  hem. 
The  King  returned,  a  sudden  thunderbolt, 
Keen  lightning  in  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  twain 
With  wine-enflamed  vision.     "  Ho, "  cried  he, 
"  Will  he  then  force  the  Queen  before  my  sight  ? 
Here  in  my  house?"     And  as  the  word  went  forth 
I  and  my  men  with  flashing  swords  rushed  in, 
And  covered  Haman's  face.     "  Let  him  be  hanged," 
Ahasuerus  spake,  "  upon  the  gallows 
That  he  for  Mordecai  prepared  hath." 
[There  is  heard  the  fanfare  of  trumpets  and  the  sound  of 

approaching  men.] 

[     140     ] 


THE  CAPTAIN 
They  come  with  Haman.     So  the  story  ends. 

[Enter  a  group  of  soldiers  with  Haman  in  their  centre. 
His  hands  are  bound  behind  him.  There  follows  a  shout 
ing  rabble.  Haman  stops  as  he  sees  Mordecai,  and  sneers.} 

HAMAN 

Come  you  to  gloat,  old  greybeard,  ere  I  die? 
Even  a  jackal  waiteth  for  the  death, 
Ere,  noiselessly  as  moonlight,  he  steals  on. 
You  Jews  are  beastlier  than  the  very  beasts ! 
Or  come  you  here  to  pluck  from  misery 
Sententious  wisdom  for  your  fellow-swine  ? 
It  is  a  pastime  that  philosophers 
Most  tenderly  enjoy. 

MORDECAI 

No  bitter  word 

Shall  cross  my  lips  against  a  dying  man. 
Jehovah  weighed  you  in  his  perfect  scales, 
And  found  you  wanting,  and  pronounced  your  doom. 

HAMAN 

The  victor  easily  may  moralize 

And  call  good  fortune  by  the  name  of  justice. 


I  hear  your  smooth  old  tongue  roll  oily  phrase 

Unto  admiring  auditors :  "  Behold 

Where  once  the  wicked  Haman  strode  in  pomp, 

Whilst  I,  most  ragged,  waited  at  the  gate; 

But  here  in  purple  him  in  chains  I  saw. 

So  virtue  triumphs,  vice  is  punished. " 

Bah!     How  I  scorn  you,  good  Lord  Mordecai 

MORDECAI 

If  scorning  gives  you  courage,  you  are  welcome. 
HAMAN 

But  though  upon  your  withered  finger  gleams 
The  ring  authoritative  which  to  me 
Ahasuerus  gave,  then  took  away, 
Still  are  you  doomed  to  death,  beyond  reprieve, 
You  and  your  cursed  kinsmen,  one  and  all. 
For  what  the  Persian  King  hath  once  decreed 
Is  not  reversible,  but  like  time's  stream 
Proceeds  unchecked,  irrevocable  law ; 
And  what  he  hath  already  signed,  endures; 
And  though  I  die,  Judaea  is  destroyed. 

MORDECAI 

The  kindly  solace  of  this  cruel  thought 
I  must  deny  you,  Haman,  for  the  King 
[     142     ] 


Hath  since  been  pleased  to  grant  and  to  command 
The  Jews  be  warned,  and  be  allowed  to  stand 
In  groups  defensive  throughout  all  the  land, 
To  slay,  destroy  and  cause  to  perish  all 
That  would  assault  or  take  the  spoil  of  them 
On  Adar's  thirteenth  day.     Thus  are  they  saved. 
The  glowing  ardor  of  the  King's  decree 
Hath  caused  my  fear  for  them  to  melt  away 
As  mist  dissolves,  pierced  by  the  radiant  arrows 
Shot  from  the  glorious  quiver  of  the  sun. 

HAMAN 

So,  for  the  present,  vengeance  hath  escaped  me. 
My  life,  a  barren  tree,  sinks  fruitless  down 
To  all-begetting,  all-entombing  earth. 
The  siren  shadows  lure  me  to  their  arms. 
Soon  shall  the  flutter  of  a  moth's  soft  wing, 
The  locust's  buzz  in  silent  summer  nights, 
Be  of  more  import  to  the  living  world 
Than  Haman,  erstwhile  master  of  this  realm. 
Yet  ere  I  go,  mark  this,  Lord  Mordecai: 
Though  all  my  plans  have  vanished  like  pale  dreams, 
Yet  shall  your  hated  race,  at  other  hands 
More  powerful  than  mine,  in  other  climes, 
Suffer  the  stroke  of  persecution's  lash, 
Revilement's  keen  abuse,  the  harsh  decree 
[     143     1 


Of  envious  legislation,  and  much  woe. 
Undoubting  this  do  I  go  down  to  death, 
And  this  undoubting,  thus  far  comforted. 

MORDECAI 

God's  will  be  done !     But  we  with  steadfast  gaze 
Shall  face  the  future,  howsoe'er  it  come. 


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